Aurora Borealis
by Samwysesr
Summary: Starts during Frostbite—Adrian watches Rose and Dimitri from afar, discovering something surprising. The more he watches, the more determined he is to claim her as his own. This is not a Adrian/Rose story, just Adrian's take on what happens in the series, told in his POV.
1. Watching

_**Disclaimer for entire story: I own nothing but a horrible clove cigarette habit similar to Adrian's as well as his slightly conniving thoughts in parts of this story. The characters, select dialogue and VA belong to Richelle Mead.  
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_**"You're surrounded in blackness." His eyes studied her shrewdly, but not in a checking-her-out sort of way. "I've never seen anyone like you. Shadows everywhere. I never would have guessed it. Even while you're standing here, the shadows keep growing."**_

_**She looked down at her hands but saw nothing out of the ordinary then glanced back up. "I'm shadow-kissed…."**_

_**"What's that mean?"**_

_**"I died once." She paused, as if considering her next words. "And I came back."**_

_**Wonder lit his face. "Ah, interesting…" **_

She vanished, instantly. Forced out of the dream he'd created, he fell into one of his own. Not a spirit dream, but rather, simply, a dream woven by his own subconscious. She stood before him, dark hair shining in the flickering flames that surrounded her. The fire sparkled in the depths of her gleaming brown eyes, calling to him—tempting him. Taunting him. He reached out a hand to caress her cheek and she vanished, her throaty laughter lingering in the air, the sound filling him with desire.

He sat up in bed, groaning as the dream dissolved. Running his hands through his hair, he was stunned to find himself shaking. Not because he needed another drink, instead this time he was quivering in anticipation. Ever since meeting her last night, she'd been on his mind. He had to see her again.

Rose Hathaway.

He rolled her name around in his head, reaching for his cigarettes. His mouth was numb feeling, his lungs heavy and abused as he lit his first smoke of the day. The fact his chest hurt didn't worry him. Most Moroi wouldn't experience the congestion he felt after taking a single drag off a cigarette. He knew the only reason he felt the way he did was because of the sheer volume he consumed on a daily basis. It was a must, if he wanted to keep his powers in check. If he didn't succumb to his vices, he would be awash in flickering colors 24/7, his mind slowly eroding away, filled with ideas and emotions he couldn't control.

Eying the bottle on his nightstand, he wondered if he dare go without his morning absolution. It was risky, to say the least. If he wasn't properly lubricated, he might start spouting off about the random thoughts that constantly danced through his sober mind—not that he was sober all that often. Still, it might be worth it, just for today. He had a growing desire to see Rosemarie Hathaway in all her glory, aura and all, as he had when they met in the dream. If he didn't drink, he could watch her aura, gauging her reaction to his charms. That thought immediately settled his internal debate. Better to tempt madness than to try and woo her blindly. He knew almost instinctively that she'd be a hard girl to pin down.

He wondered, briefly, if Vasilisa experienced the same things he did. He'd heard rumors that she might. The fact the Princess was also best friends with the girl he was determined to impress might actually work in his favor. If he befriended her, then he'd be around the lovely Miss Hathaway. Once she got to know him, surely she wouldn't be able to resist him. He wasn't that much older than her, despite her sarcastic statement about not liking older guys. Which had been a lie—he'd seen it in her aura. For all intents and purposes, he was a living, breathing lie detector.

With a groan he stood, hobbling towards the shower. The sooner he made himself presentable, the sooner he could be near her. That was his only goal for the day—to be near his beautiful dream girl. It was time to make it happen.

As soon as he entered the lobby, he zeroed in on a young dhampire and approached him, smiling. With only the slightest bit of compulsion, the boy answered his questions. Rosemarie Hathaway was Saint Vlad's shining star. Under the tutelage of her mentor—a Guardian named Belikov—she had become a force to be reckoned with. He quizzed the youth about the mentor—the name sounded familiar. Ah, yes. The tall Russian who always had a grim expression on his face. He wondered, briefly, if the man's sour expression was due to Rosemarie's sassy attitude. He would be willing to wager that she was just as sarcastic and condescending to her mentor as she was to everyone else.

Releasing his compulsion, he dismissed the boy. It was time to corner his prize, and he knew exactly where to find her. Everyone was abuzz, muttering about the 'meeting' that was being held. He made his way to the designated room, lounging in an alcove, almost hidden from view. His eyes searched the room, seeking her out from the assembled crowd. He was amazed at the way his heart skipped when he spotted her. That was a first.

A red-haired dhampire sat beside her, gazing at her with adoring eyes. He studied their auras, dismissing the boy in an instant. He could read their feelings for each other clearly, it only took a brief glimpse. The young dhampire was crazy about her, but it was nothing more than puppy love. More importantly, she felt nothing for him, except friendship.

He studied the blackness that surrounded her like an angry thundercloud. He could still see the colorful aura that surrounded her, it shone against her darkness and was incredibly similar to the way the Aurora Borealis flickered against the sky at night. It was—

Wow…

As he watched, focusing on her aura, it… changed. It flickered through a riot of colors, reminding him of an acid trip he'd once had. Once minute it darkened to a blood like red, then shifted to a deep cerulean blue, before fading into a vibrant purple. More amazing was the fact that it was… brightening.

The black cloud of darkness still surrounded her—so heavy that he could almost feel it's weight from across the room—but it was… shrinking back, somehow. It seemed almost diminished by the bright golden glow that was slowly surrounding her. That one color—the gold—stayed constant, while the others faded in and out in a myriad of constant change. Stranger still it was…

He tilted his head, confused. He'd never seen an aura act this way. It was moving. He let his eyes go slightly out of focus, trying to grasp what he saw before him. It was expanding… almost as if it were reaching out to something, merging with…

His eyes refocused instantly, and he noticed a matching golden glow on her opposite side. He'd been so intent on studying her that he had failed to notice the person who had claimed the seat on her other side—the person who Rose's aura was reaching for. He shifted his focus to the interloper…

Holy Fuck.

It was Belikov. He watched their auras, both pulsing to the same beat, the colors flickering in a synchronized dance. What the hell? This wasn't friendship. Respect maybe? No… that didn't feel right either, although both emotions were present. He realized he'd have to get closer to them to get a better reading, and that wasn't happening anytime soon.

He let his eyes wander around the room, searching for similar occurrences. He knew he'd seen a glimpse of it somewhere before, but exactly where escaped him. It was driving him crazy, like an itch on his brain that he couldn't quite scratch.

Yes—a few other auras were merging, although none as strongly as Rose and Belikov's. His eyes narrowed as he studied the people surrounded by the auras, not liking the dawning realization that was occurring. One pair in particular, he recognized. They were distant relatives, both well into their seventies. He vaguely recalled his mother telling him they had caused a scandal when they had eloped together at age sixteen.

No, he didn't like this one little bit. All the merging golden auras belonged to… couples. Extremely committed, devoted couples, at that. His eyes flicked back to Rose, his jaw tensing. Now their auras were twining, flowing through each other, glowing even brighter than his own. As if their auras weren't enough of a giveaway, their physical reactions screamed the truth as well. How did no one notice this? Guardian 'Straight laced' Belikov was staring at the front of the room—so was Rose, for that matter—but their bodies were leaning towards each other, as if one was a magnet and the other one an iron plate. From time to time he would glance down at her, his stoic expression softening for the briefest instant. Each time he did it, his aura would flash vibrant red, then pink and blue, signifying lust, love and sorrow. The same happened when she glanced at him.

So much for her not liking older guys—he'd known it was a lie as soon as she uttered the words. He hoped Belikov was ready for some competition, because now he wanted her more than ever. Sighing, he fought back the urge to light up another cigarette. He'd get to the bottom of this, but first he had to get through this stupid damned meeting.


	2. Listening

He was rubbing his temples, craving a drink when Natasha Ozera's ridiculously vulgar display dissolved the meeting into a free for all. Everyone was shouting, their auras flaring with disgust and anger. It was giving him a massive headache. When Belikov stood, speaking to Rose, Adrian straightened, preparing himself for action.

She followed the tall man out the door, leaving her little red haired lap dog behind. Finally, he could move. It was a relief to escape the roomful of flashing auras—he felt like he had spent the last thirty minutes trapped inside a rave. He hurried down the corridor, not wanting to lose Rose and her 'mentor' in the crowd.

He heard her before he saw her, ducking behind a conveniently large piece of sculpture. With growing fascination, he watched them. They were like water and oil, two substances completely at odds with each other. She was full of passion and fire—the Russian, by contrast, seemed almost inhumanely calm.

_"Shouldn't you be in there protecting Tasha?" she asked. "Before the mob gets her? She's going to get in big trouble for using magic like that."_

Ohhh. A ribbon of brilliant green, almost lime colored surrounded her. She was jealous of Natasha. He wondered why. She was a million—no, a billion times more attractive than the Ozera woman.

_Belikov raised an eyebrow. "She can take care of herself."_

Her aura flared with a brilliant red orange—whatever she was about to say angered her. Adrian smiled to himself, realizing that he was witnessing the beginning of what promised to be an epic fight.

_"Yeah, yeah, because she's a badass karate magic user. I get all that. I just figured since you're going to be her guardian and all…"_

He bit his lip as he assessed Belikov's reaction to her statement. Shock, dismay and… fear surrounded him. Was he scared of sweet little Rosemarie? Perhaps it was fear of losing her—that would be understandable.

_"Where did you hear that?" Belikov asked._

_"I have my sources. You've decided to, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as she's going to give you fringe benefits…."_

Adrian chuckled softly at the sarcasm that laced her words. God, this girl was a prize above all others.

_"What happens between her and me is none of your business," Belikov replied._

She was hurt by his words, it was obvious, even if he hadn't been able to see the colors of her emotions flaring, it was evident from the look on her face. How could Belikov do that to her? Didn't he realize how lucky he was? Adrian shifted, his frown replaced with a smirk as he watched her anger flash, brighter than before.

_"Well, I'm sure you guys'll be happy together. She's just your type, too—I know how much you like women who aren't your own age. I mean, she's what, six years older than you? Seven? And I'm seven years younger than you."_

Meow—the claws come out. He had been right. They were involved. Even fighting, their auras were still caressing each other. He didn't care—if Belikov was fool enough to treat her this way, then he didn't deserve her. She needed someone who would treat her like a princess. Who better to do that than the favored nephew of the Queen?

_"Yes," Belikov said after several moments of silence. "You are. And every second this conversation goes on, you only prove how young you really are."_

SHIT! Adrian's jaw dropped. That was cold. Harsh. The other man's regret was immediate, surrounding him as soon as the last word was uttered, but it was too late. The damage had been done. She was hurt again, this time much stronger than before. His decision was instantaneous. He would comfort her—get her away from the Russian before this got even uglier—Rose looked like she was about to deck the tall man. Stepping around the statue, he sauntered towards them, calling out to her as he approached.

"Little dhampir."

Slowly, she turned towards him, her face still filled with pain from her lover's words. Adrian smiled at her, then gave a brief nod to the asshole at her side. Holding up his hands, he stepped closer to her.

"I don't want to interrupt or anything. Just wanted to talk to you when you have time." Meaning, he thought to himself, come with me, before he hurts you again.

He could feel the taller man's gaze as if it had physical presence. No, Belikov didn't want Adrian Ivashkov anywhere near the lovely Rose—it was evident in his glare. The girl in question flashed a smile that rivaled the brilliance of the sun, then stepped to his side, placing a hand on his arm.

Now Belikov was surrounded by the pulsating green jealousy, tinged slightly with hints of red-orange signifying his anger.

"I've got time now." She nodded at the tall man, steering the handsome Moroi away, walking so closely beside him that their sides brushed.

"See you later, Guardian Belikov."

Adrian glanced back, almost laughing at the other man's dismay. Ha! Little Rose would be extremely pleased to know she'd just wounded her beloved mentor—the use of his title had filled his aura with pain and sorrow in addition to the jealous rage.

"Not into older guys, huh?" He asked her.

"You're imagining things," she said. "Clearly, my stunning beauty has clouded your mind."

He laughed, pleased with her witty comeback. "That's entirely possible." He wondered if she realized her cradle-robbing mentor was trailing them—at a discreet distance, of course. He could feel the other man's aura pacing them, the jealousy pressing against him like a weight.

She started to step back, but he slid an arm around her, pulling her warm, curvy body closer to his side. "No, no, you wanted to play chummy with me—now you've got to see it through."

Let's see, he thought to himself, if we can drive Belikov crazy. He contemplated whispering in her ear, but decided she might take it the wrong way. Time enough for that later, once she knew him a bit better. Slow and steady would win the race.

Rose rolled her eyes at him, relaxing underneath his arm. "What do you want?" She asked.

He studied her for a moment. "I want you to grab Vasilisa and come with me. We're going to have some fun. You'll probably want a swimsuit too." He paused for a moment, considering his words. "Unless you want to go naked."

"What? A bunch of Moroi and dhampirs just got slaughtered, and you want to go swimming and 'have fun'?"

"It's not just swimming," he said patiently. "Besides, that slaughter is exactly why you should go do this."

Her friends round the corner, deep in conversation, though they all stopped talking when they saw the two walking so closely together.

"There you are," said the blonde, a puzzled look on her face.

She stepped away, distancing herself from Adrian, almost as if they had been caught in a compromising position. He smirked at the thought, then chuckled. He wondered if she realized it made them look guilty, especially to the tall man that lingered somewhere behind them.

"Hey, guys," she said, smiling broadly. "Adrian invited us to go swimming."

The red heads face darkened a little, but he said nothing.

After giving them directions, he hurried ahead, wanting to speak to the person hosting the shindig. After calling in a favor, the host agreed to his request and went to speak with the four Guardians that were watching the door. He rejoined Adrian with a nod and a smile.

"I don't know what you're up to Ivashkov, but you owe me."

Adrian smiled. "No cousin. _You_ owed _me_. Now we're even. Let's get a drink, shall we?"

He was hyper aware of Rose from the moment she entered the room, but he didn't approach her. He lingered near the closed entrance, flirting and talking, waiting for the message he knew would be coming any minute. Just as expected, it came within moments of Rose's arrival.

"Lord Ivashkov?"

He turned to face one of the Guardians, smiling at the man's deferential tone of voice. "Yes?"

"Lord Badica said we were to inform you if Guardian Belikov requested entrance. He has—he wants to monitor his charge, Princess Dragomir."

Adrian smirked. Yeah, right. He wanted to monitor someone, but it wasn't Vasilisa. "No. His request is refused. Inform him that _I_ said there are a sufficient number of Guardians present and to return to his quarters." He turned away from the dhampire, his eyes automatically searching for Rose. He hung back for a while, circulating among the guests, always watching her from the corner of his eye. He kept his alcohol intake in check, because he would be needing his 'gift' later on.

"Tasha Ozera is not trying to kill everyone off. She's trying to get you to stop being a victim."

He heard her voice, amazed that she was taking up for the woman that he knew she considered her competition. It stunned him that she put aside her own personal feelings so easily. Suddenly, she was in the middle of a brawl, alarming him. He started towards her, determined to remove her from the fray. Thank God her little lap dog jumped in before he got there. Almost as soon as the fight broke up, she vanished from sight, sending him into a state of panic. He hurried towards the last place he had seen her, determined not to lose track of her again.

Good God—she'd wandered into the feeder room. He watched from the door way as she eyes the rooms occupants, shivering slightly. For a moment, her face was filled with an intense longing, and so was her aura.

"Want to volunteer?" He trailed his fingers across her neck, smirking when she jumped.

"Don't do that," she said, brushing his hand away.

"Then what are you doing in here?" he asked.

She waved her hand. "I'm lost."

He stared down at her, concerned. "Are you drunk?"

"No. Of course not…but …" She grimaced. "I think I should sit down."

He took her arm, gently guiding her away. "Well, don't do it in here. Someone might get the wrong idea. Let's go somewhere quiet."

He led her into the massage area, settling her down and getting her a glass of water. Hopefully she would notice how thoughtful he was, when compared to the man who had so gravely insulted her just a short while before.

"Drink this. It'll help."

"I told you, I'm not drunk," she mumbled, taking a big drink.

"Uh-huh." He smiled at her. "You did nice work with that fight. Who was the other guy that helped you?"

"My boyfriend," she said. "Sort of."

Another lie. He smirked as he glanced at her aura. The feelings she had for the boy were purely platonic.

"Mia was right. You do have a lot of guys in your life."

"It's not like that."

"Okay." He smiled at her. "Where's Vasilisa? I figured she'd be attached to you."

"She's with her boyfriend."

He could feel her eyes on him. She was watching him, almost studying him.

"What's with the tone? Jealous? You want him for yourself?" He knew that wasn't the case, but couldn't resist teasing her.

"God, no. I just don't like him."

"Does he treat her badly?" he asked.

"No," she admitted. "He adores her. He's just kind of a jerk."

He was enjoying making small talk with this girl. For once, he was actually interested enough to listen and pay attention to her responses. Usually, his female companions bored him to tears. "Ah, you are jealous. Does she spend more time with him than you?"

"Why do you keep asking about her? Are you interested in her?"

He laughed. "Rest easy, I'm not interested in her in the same way I am you."

"But you are interested."

"I just want to talk to her."

Realizing her glass was empty, he got up to get her more. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah … I didn't think those drinks were that strong."

"That's the beauty of them," he chuckled. "And speaking of beauty … that's a great color on you."

She blushed, and it made her look even more lovely. It was as if she didn't know how to receive a compliment.

"You haven't had a cigarette in, like, ten minutes," she pointed out, obviously trying to change the subject.

As soon as he heard the word cigarette, the craving for one hit him full force. He made a face. "No smoking in here."

"I'm sure you've made up for it in punch." She said, smirking at him.

He smiled. "Well, some of us can hold our liquor. You aren't going to be sick, are you?"

She paused, as if contemplating his question. "No."

"Good."

"Adrian…"

His heart started beating faster. He wanted to hear her say his name again, her voice turned it into something beautiful. He looked over at her, smiling "Yes, darling?"

She blushed again. "Never mind."

He started to retort, then tilted his head toward the door. He could sense a familiar aura approaching—it was full of tension and concern. "Ah, here she comes."

"Who—"

Lissa stepped into the room, eyes scanning around.

"There you are," she said, kneeling down. Glancing at Adrian, she gave him a nod. "Hey."

"Hey yourself, cousin," he returned, using the family terms royals sometimes used around each other.

"You okay?" Lissa asked. "When I saw how drunk you were, I thought you might have fallen in somewhere and drowned."

Rose grimaced, and he almost burst out laughing at her disgruntled expression. "I'm not—" she sighed. "I'm fine."

He studied Lissa's aura intently. Yes, she had the same… gift. He wondered if she had felt its drawbacks. "How'd you find her?"

Lissa gave him a puzzled look. "I, um, checked all the rooms."

"Oh." He looked disappointed. "I thought you might have used your bond."

Both girls stared at him, seeming stunned by his statement.

"How do you know about that?" Rose demanded.

"Hey, I can't reveal all my secrets, can I?" he asked mysteriously. "And besides, there's a certain way you two act around each other … it's hard to explain. It's pretty cool… all the old myths are true."

Lissa regarded him warily. "The bond only works one way. Rose can sense what I'm feeling and thinking, but I can't do it back to her."

"Ah." They sat in silence a few moments before Adrian spoke again. "What'd you specialize in anyway, cousin?"

The blonde looked embarrassed. "I haven't," she said.

"Do they think you're going to? Late bloomer?" That's the line of BS they had given him. Shows how much they knew—absolutely nada.

"No."

"You're probably higher in the other elements, though, right? Just not strong enough to really master any?" He reached out to pat her shoulder in an exaggerated show of comfort.

Lissa's eyes widened. "Yeah, how'd you—"

The instant his fingers touched her, she gasped. He felt it too. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her. The strangest look crossed her face. She stared at Adrian in wonder. His eyes locked onto hers and his lips twitched up in a small smile. He knew what she was feeling. Whatever power flowed through them recognized the like element they shared and responded, making their bodies thrum with its energy.

"Hey," Rose said. "Stop that. I told you, she has a boyfriend."

"I know," he said, still watching Lissa. A small smile turned his lips. "We need to have a chat someday, cousin."

"Yes," she agreed, her voice sounding shaky.

"Hey." Rose sounded confused. "You have a boyfriend. And there he is."

She blinked back to reality. All three turned toward the doorway where Christian and the others stood, watching them.

Lissa sprang up, looking mildly guilty. Christian was regarding her curiously.

"We're getting ready to leave," he said.

"Okay," she told him. She looked down at Rose. "Ready?"

Rose nodded, slowly climbing to her feet. Determined to prove what a gentleman he was, Adrian caught her arm, helping her up as he smiled at Lissa. "Nice talking to you." Leaning towards Rose, he murmured very quietly, "Don't worry. I told you, I'm not interested in her in that way. She doesn't look as good in a bathing suit. Probably not as good out of one either."

She jerked her arm away, glaring. "Well, you'll never find out."

"It's okay," he said. "I have a good imagination."

He lost all interest in the party the minute she left. He followed them to the door, leaning against it as he watched them make their way down the hall. Once they disappeared from sight a tall figure emerged from the shadows, trailing silently behind them. He chuckled, knowing who it was. Apparently the cradle-robber was also a stalker. Nodding to the Guardians at the door, he slowly made his way outside for a much needed smoke. Seeing Belikov made him glad he had taken it easy on the alcohol. Tonight he was going to dream walk, only it wasn't the lovely Rosemarie who's dreams he would be visiting.


	3. To sleep, perchance to dream

Adrian smiled to himself—operation win Rosemarie had been set into play. Ordering an assortment of fragrances, he had paid an astronomical sum to guarantee immediate delivery. The lovely Miss Hathaway should receive them sometime tomorrow. Thank God for online shopping. He smirked, wondering how Belikov could top such a thoughtful gesture.

Undressing, he flopped on the bed, contemplating everything he had witnessed over the course of the day. The Russian cared about Rose—that was obvious from his aura—but he wouldn't commit to her. The question was why the hell not? What could posses any man to turn away a woman as delightful as Rose?

There was an age difference, but why should that matter? She was almost eighteen, and the age of consent in Montana was sixteen. The fact that he was her teacher was easily dismissed as well—he could always have her reassigned to someone else, and she would be graduating soon, anyway. They were both supposed to guard Vasilisa, but again, Belikov could always ask for reassignment. Maybe he just didn't want to get involved with someone as wild and carefree as Rose. He chuckled to himself—she _was_ like a wild rose, beautiful and strong, thriving in the most unlikely place imaginable, as a future female guardian. Women who looked like Rose weren't meant for a life of servitude. She deserved so much more than to spend the next sixty years risking her life on a daily basis or lingering in the shadows, watching for danger.

He decided the Russian's reasoning for abstaining from the girl didn't really matter. Belikov's loss would be Adrian's gain. _He_ would appreciate her. _He_ would never speak down to her, or hurt her the way the other man had earlier in the day. Putting out his cigarette, he tried to make himself comfortable. Comfort was an absolute necessity for what he was about to do.

Dream walking was easy, he'd been doing it for as long as he could remember. What he was about to attempt was something a bit more difficult. To dream walk, he simply entered an almost meditative state, then sent out his power, searching for the person he wanted to contact. He could locate them using either their unique aura or the imprinted memory of their… essence—their image or scent, whatever it was about the person that lingered in his mind. Then he could either insert himself into their existing dream or twist it to suit whatever he fancied.

This—dream viewing—was something else entirely. He knew he would be drained afterwards, a tiny bit closer to the ever threatening instability that hunted him. It took a greater effort, to enter into someone's existing dream and mask his presence, remaining an unseen observer to the person's subconscious mind. Still, he had to attempt it—he was curious to know exactly what it was that Belikov would be dreaming about, after seeing Rose cuddling up against the notorious Adrian Ivashkov's side.

He knew the other man would be sleeping soon. He'd had the foresight to inquire about the Guardian's schedule. He hadn't even needed to exert any compulsion, relying solely on his good looks and outstanding charm. A few compliments and just the slightest bit of flirting with the middle-aged female in charge of Guardian affairs had won him a copy of Belikov's schedule. It would be so much easier to court Rose now that he knew when the other man would be on patrol.

He began to ground himself, slowing his breathing until it was deep and even. When he felt sufficiently calm, he sent his power out, searching for the mind and aura of the man he was seeking. He found it almost immediately, but he couldn't access it right away. The Russian was sleeping, but not deeply enough to have entered into his dream cycle. Adrian waited patiently, and was rewarded soon enough.

There.

He pulled some of his power back, not wanting to alert Belikov of his presence. The dream was still forming when he stepped into it, and he watched with interest as a room took shape around him. It was… Spartan, to say the least. Plain, more like the cell of a monk than the living space of a normal man in his twenties. The room was dim, lit only by a small bedside lamp. Adrian leaned against the small bookshelf, snorting to himself as he glimpsed at the titles. Western novels, each and every one. Couldn't the man read something a bit more adventurous? Maybe some W.E.B. Griffin or even Tom Clancy?

A frantic banging on the door drew his attention back to his surroundings and he watched as Belikov entered the room from an open doorway—the bathroom, perhaps. Adrian narrowed his eyes, realizing instantly that this wasn't an ordinary dream. This wasn't a random occurrence created by the other man's sleeping mind. It felt… different. This was a dream Belikov had often, but it was something more—it was a… memory. One the other man replayed frequently.

Belikov opened the door, revealing an absolutely mouth-watering vision—Rose, standing in the sexiest little black dress imaginable. Adrian crossed his arms, wondering where this was headed. He studied the faint aura that surrounded the other man. Even in memory, it was still visible, albeit faintly. He was full of lust—not that Adrian blamed him. Wearing that dress, Rose could conquer nations.

"Rose?" Belikov said.

"Let me in. It's Lissa."

He immediately stepped aside , allowing her to enter. Interesting how quickly he let her in, considering she was dressed to seduce and he was wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms.

"What's wrong?"

Adrian watched with amusement as Rose threw herself at his chest. Her 'mentors' eyes closed for a moment as her lips made contact with his bare skin. Almost immediately, they shot back open.

"Rose!" he exclaimed, stepping back. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" She approached him, her hips swaying seductively.

He took another step backwards, holding his hands out as if to keep her at bay "Are you drunk?"

"Don't I wish!" She started to dodge around him, then stopped, a heartbreaking expression of uncertainty crossing her lovely face. "I thought you wanted to—don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Rose, I don't know what's going on, but you need to go back to your room."

She moved towards him again and his hands shot out, gripping her wrists. With that touch, their auras flared to life, resembling a supernova. They were surrounded by a golden light, shot through with flickering waves of claret colored lust. Belikov's eyes widened for a moment, and Adrian recognized the expression on his face. All men had a version of it—he was about to give in.

Releasing Rose's wrists, he moved his hands slowly up her arms before pulling her close, pressing her tightly to his body. One of his hands moved up the back of her neck, his long fingers twining in her thick, dark hair as he tilted her head. Adrian's lip curled up in disgust as Belikov brought his lips down brushing them against Rose's.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" She asked.

Adrian glared at the other man, mentally daring him to lie. She was so much more than just pretty—the word was an insult to how gorgeous she was.

Belikov stared down at her. "I think you're beautiful."

"Beautiful?"

"You are so beautiful, it hurts me sometimes."

Rolling his eyes, Ivashkov sauntered over to the desk, making himself comfortable in the spindly chair. This might take a while, but he'd wait it out. He knew in a minute or two Belikov would come to his senses and banish Rose from the room.

He kissed her again, his hands sliding down her arms, down her hips, down to the edge of her spectacular dress. He gathered up the fabric in his hands and began pushing it up her long legs. She moaned, pressing herself against him. His hands kept sliding up and up, until he'd pulled the dress over her head and tossed it on the floor.

Adrian shifted in the chair. He'd been wrong earlier. Rose in the flesh—so to speak—was a million times more amazing than he ever would have imagined. This was progressing much further than he'd thought it would. Surely Belikov didn't intend to—

"You…you got rid of that dress fast," She was practically panting. "I thought you liked it."

"I do like it," he said. His breathing just as heavy. "I love it." With that, he scooped her up, carrying her over to the bed.

Adrian felt a momentary surge of guilt as he watched them. Lying on the bed, they clung to each other and kept kissing—and kissing and kissing and kissing. His hands and lips were all over her, claiming her as his own. This was not what he'd expected to find lingering in the depths of Belikov's mind. He had thought they'd shared an embrace or two, nothing more.

The way the Russian stared down at Rose, murmuring her name in Russian, over and over again, not to mention the look in Rose's eyes as she stared up at him—this might be more difficult than he'd thought. Coming between them might actually be a bit of a challenge.

Thank God the pajama pants stayed on—Adrian had no desire to see the other man undressed. But Rose… My God she was a sight. Her body was like a work of art, glowing in the dim light, her eyes sparkling with desire. When she shifted, hovering over the other man, with her hair hanging down around them, Adrian had to readjust himself. He had to have her—no matter what the cost. Belikov's voice brought him out of his fantasies, the passion the other man felt making his accent so thick his words were almost hard to understand.

"Sometimes I find peace there, but not often. I find more peace with you."

Damn, Adrian thought to himself. The man knew how to throw out a line.

He rolled Rose off of him, moving on top of her again. The kissing picked up once more, harder this time. More urgent. Adrian's eyes narrowed. Hell no—it was time to put a stop to this. The actual event may have already occurred, but he'd be damned if he'd let Belikov relive the moment in this dream. He needed the other man to be frustrated and on edge. He flexed his power, twisting the dream for only an instant, turning it into a spirit dream without even really thinking about it. Rose disappeared, leaving Belikov hovering over an empty matress, looking confused.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your hands off my future girlfriend." Adrian's voice was taunting.

Belikov's head shot up, his eyes searching the dimly lit room. "Ivashkov?"

"In the flesh… sort of."

The other man groaned, mumbling in Russian as he buried his face in the pillows.

"That won't do you any good. I speak Russian." Adrian stood, sauntering towards the bed, glaring down at the dhampire. "When you wake up, remember what I said. Rose is mine now. Stay away from her."

That got his attention. "Rose is most certainly _not _yours. She's much too smart to involve herself with—"

Adrian cut him off, determined to break through his calm exterior. "She _will _ be mine. You've pushed her away one too many times. If you really looked into her eyes you'd realize that. She needs someone to swoop in and help her pick up the pieces—and that someone is going to be me. Too bad you didn't appreciate what you had before you lost it. The situation with Natasha will be your undoing. Rose won't play second fiddle to anyone. I can see that, and I've known her for less than 24 hours. Keep up the good work, Belikov, I appreciate the way you're sending her straight into my open arms." He watched the other mans fist ball up in anger, pleased to see the reaction he'd been waiting for. "You're waking up, Belikov. If you'll excuse me, I think it's time I paid my little Rosebud a visit."

With that, he withdrew his power, shattering the dream. An instant later he shook his head, reaching for the bottle on his nightstand. He was willing to bet that Belikov was throwing on his clothes, preparing to rush through the lodge and station himself near Rosemarie's door, ready to intercept any male suitors that happened to stop by for a visit. Adrian laughed at the thought, knowing the other man's actions would anger Rose even more, widening the gulf that was forming between them. Clutching the bottle to his chest, he welcomed sleep, knowing that tonight, it would be dreamless.


	4. A walk on the Wild Side

Adrian had been awakened way too early by someone knocking at his door. He tried to ignore it, but whoever it was seemed damned insistent. Grumbling he had rolled out of bed, staggering over to the door and throwing it open.

"What?" He growled, his eyes struggling to focus on the figure before him.

Princess Vasilisa Dragomir stood, her eyes wide with shock at his rudeness. Or perhaps she was shocked by the fact he had answered the door in a pair of silk boxer shorts.

"I'm sorry, I—" she turned to leave, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He reached out, grabbing her wrist. "No, it's ok. Sorry. I'm always rude first thing in the morning. Come in cousin, have a seat while I make myself decent."

She sat, still blushing prettily, her eyes locked on the carpet. Her demure demeanor amused him. He threw on a pair of pants and a shirt, collapsing beside her on the sofa. His body was demanding a drink, but he was determined not to overdo it today. He hoped to spend some time with Rose, and he could tell she didn't approve of his normal behavior.

"What can I do for you?" He had to get the ball rolling, apparently she was content to stare at the carpet in silence all day.

"What was that last night? What I felt, when you touched me?"

He laughed. "That, Vasilisa, was like calling to like."

"Please, I'm Lissa."

He could tell his words had confused her, so he sat for a moment, waiting for her to figure out his meaning. He'd heard she was smart, surely she would—

She gasped, making him flinch. "You're a spirit user, like me!"

He stared at her. Apparently, it was his turn to be confused. Explaining what she and Rose had discovered, she seemed more relaxed. In turn, he felt himself relaxing as well, relieved to have finally found someone he could share his troubles with. He was about to ask her if she felt the black depression when she stood, announcing she had to go. He felt disappointed, but masked it. They'd have plenty of time to talk in the future.

He opened the door, shocked to find Rose standing on the other side. Damn it, he hadn't even had time to shower!

"Little dhampir," he said cordially, trying to regain his composure. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm returning these." She shoved the box into his chest before he could open his mouth to protest. Clumsily, he caught it, staggering a under its sudden weight. Once he had a good grip, he took a few steps back and set it on the floor. Her reaction confused him. He had expected her to be pleased by his thoughtfulness, not… irritated.

"Didn't you like any of them?" he asked. "You want me to get you some more?" He'd gladly do it. Hell, he'd buy her a car if she wanted one.

"Don't send me any more gifts." Her voice held a warning, but he chose to ignore it.

"It isn't a gift. It's a public service. What woman doesn't own perfume?"

"Don't do it again," she repeated, her voice sounding firm.

Suddenly, a voice behind him asked, "Rose? Is that you?" He felt like groaning, knowing Rose would get the wrong idea. He was trying to win her, not drive her further away, Damn it.

She peered around him, staring at Lissa. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Lissa shot back.

Shit. This was definitely not helping matters. He thought perhaps a little humor would alleviate some of the tension he felt growing around them.

"Ladies, ladies," he teased. "No need to fight over me." He was pleased to notice the tiniest hint of green in Rose's aura. Hah! She was jealous!

Her glare quickly shot down his euphoria. "We're not. I just want to know what's going on here."

A deep, accented voice behind Rose echoed through the hallway. "Me too."

Adrian cursed internally. He should have known the cradle robber would show up. Belikov had probably been trailing Rose all morning, making sure Adrian didn't approach her.

Rose jumped, spinning around and staring at the irritated man. He stepped past her, entering the room uninvited. His jealousy was as obvious on his face as it was in his aura.

"Male and female students aren't supposed to be in each other's rooms."

Adrian smirked at the taller man, contemplating pointing out the obvious. He wasn't a student. Even if he were, the rules wouldn't really apply to him. They hadn't when he was an actual student, and he'd be damned if they were going to stop him now. Rose's next statement grabbed his attention.

"How do you keep doing this?" She demanded, frustrated.

He knew his face reflected his confusion. "Do what?"

"Keep making us look bad!"

He chuckled. "You guys are the ones who came here."

"You shouldn't have let them in. I'm sure you know the rules at St. Vladimir's." Belikov's voice was scornful.

Adrian felt his anger stir. How dare a dhampire attempt to scold an Ivashkov as if he were a naughty schoolboy. He bit back his initial response, determined to remain calm in Rose's presence. He wanted Belikov to lose his cool, not the other way around. He shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't have to follow any school's stupid rules."

"Perhaps not," Dimitri said coldly. "But I would have thought you'd still respect those rules."

Adrian rolled his eyes, deciding to take a jab at his competition. After what he'd witnessed last night, Belikov had some nerve judging him. "I'm kind of surprised to find you lecturing about underage girls."

The other man read the hidden message in his phrase—anger flashed in his dark eyes. For a moment, it seemed he might lose control. Rage shot through his aura, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides, showing how angry he was. Adrian smirked, knowing the man was remembering his interrupted dream.

"Besides," Adrian continued, "nothing sordid was going on. We were just hanging out.

"If you want to 'hang out' with young girls, do it at one of the public areas."

He was pleased to see Rose's aura flash with anger at being called a young girl. That's right, Belikov, just keep rubbing her age in her face. The man was an absolute moron when it came to women. It made him laugh. Unfortunately, he realized too late that his dream viewing had affected him more than usual. The laugh sounded strange and eerie, tinged with a hint of madness. He couldn't stop himself from uttering the first thing that crossed his mind.

"Young girls? Young girls? Sure. Young and old at the same time. They've barely seen anything in life, yet they've already seen too much. One's marked with life, and one's marked with death… but they're the ones you're worried about? Worry about yourself, dhampir. Worry about you, and worry about me. We're the ones who are young."

They stared at him, as if he were crazy. If they knew how closely he walked the line between madness and sanity every day of his life, they would probably run screaming from his presence. He forced back his dark thoughts, struggling to appear normal. Turning away he strolled toward the window, glancing casually back at his guests as he pulled out his clove cigarettes. He needed a fix, to keep the insanity at bay.

"You ladies should probably go. He's right. I am a bad influence."

The girls glanced at each other and left. He waited a few seconds before cracking the door and peering out, watching as they followed Dimitri down the hall toward the lobby. Tossing the cigarette in the crystal ashtray, he pulled on his power, cloaking himself as he slipped into the hallway. It was another talent of his, the ability to send power into his aura, somehow making himself less noticeable to those around him. It would hold until he either released it or some incompetent fool bumped into him. Trailing them down the hall, he leaned against the wall a few yards back, his superior Moroi hearing picking up their voices clearly. Rose started to follow Lissa, but Belikov wasn't quite ready to release her.

"Rose," he said. "Can I talk to you?"

She hesitated, finally crossing her arms and staring up at him. She was still noticeably angry, perhaps reliving his hurtful words the day before.

"That's Adrian Ivashkov." His voice was tense, his jealousy making his accent more pronounced. Adrian smirked, pleased to know the man was worried.

Rose stared at him with a look that screamed out 'no shit Sherlock'. "Yeah, I know."

"This is the second time I've seen you with him." His aura was slowly embracing hers, making Adrian wonder if somehow his subconscious affected it. The gold was flecked with worry and love, not to mention his ever growing jealousy.

"Yeah," she replied. "We hang out sometimes." He almost laughed at the tone she used. It was so wonderfully suggestive. He could see Belikov's body tense.

The tall man arched an eyebrow, then jerked his head back toward where we'd come from. "You hang out in his room a lot?"

"What happens between him and me is none of your business." Somehow, she managed to sound exactly the same way he had the day before, when he'd made a similar comment. Adrian grinned, pleased that his little dhampire was putting the pedophile in his place.

"Actually, as long as you're at the Academy, what you do is my business."

Good God, reminding her again he was her teacher, and that she was nothing more than a student in his eyes. This was going to be almost too easy. Adrian had thought the man was going to at least attempt to put up a fight.

"Not my personal life. You don't have any say in that." She shot back, her temper starting to grow.

"You're not an adult yet."

"I'm close enough. Besides, it's not like I'll magically become an adult on my eighteenth birthday."

"Clearly,"he said.

Adrian winced. Again with the age comments. Belikov clearly needed to get some new material.

She blushed, hurt at his thoughtless words. "That's not what I meant. I meant—"

"I know what you meant. And the technicalities don't matter right now. You're an Academy student. I'm your instructor. It's my job to help you and to keep you safe. Being in the bedroom of someone like him… well, that's not safe."

Hah! _He_ wasn't safe? He wasn't the one who had ripped her dress off and—

"I can handle Adrian Ivashkov," Rose muttered. "He's weird— really weird, apparently—but harmless."

Ouch. Well, that was a shot to his ego. Still, he understood her words, she had, after all, had a ringside seat to his little detour into crazy town a short while ago.

"Speaking of personal lives … I suppose you were off visiting Tasha, huh?" Her voice sounded sad, and the colors flickering against the dark cloud around her reflected it. Adrian was pleased to note that the gold around her wasn't responding to Belikov in quite the same way as it had the day before. It was still there, still reaching for him, but today, his aura was the aggressive one, surrounding her almost as if it wanted to jerk her into his arms. The darkness had changes too, almost doubling in size, and the gold was doing nothing to diminish it.

"Actually, I was visiting your mother."

"You going to hook up with her too?"

Adrian chortled out loud, realizing almost too late that he was supposed to be discreet. Ducking into a door frame, he shook with silent laughter. Where the hell did she get her quips? He leaned his head against the wall, trying to control his mirth. By the time he had himself under control, he realized he had missed quite a bit of their conversation.

"Zen life lessons again," She sighed, running a hand through her long hair, tucking it behind her ears in a wonderful, feminine gesture. "Why'd you tell me this, anyway? This is guardian stuff. Not the kind of thing you let novices in on."

His face softened as he stared down at her. He was leaning down slightly, lessening the space between them. Adrian was willing to bet it was an unconscious movement. "I've said a few things…the other day and today…that I shouldn't have. Things that insulted your age. You're seventeen…but you're capable of handling and processing the same things those much older than you do."

"Really?" Rose asked her voice sounding slightly husky.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Her aura reflected her joy, and now it was rubbing against his. He was actually winning her over, making her forget the hurt he had caused her.

He nodded. "You're still really young in a lot of ways— and act young—but the only way to really change that is to treat you like an adult. I need to do that more. I know you'll take this information and understand how important it is and keep it to yourself."

Someone walked by, and when Adrian noticed who it was he bit his lip to contain his amusement. Too little, too late Belikov, he thought to himself. If the idiot had said his sweet words earlier, he might have pulled this one off. As it was, his little moment of sweetness was about to be blown sky high.

"Dimka," Natasha Ozera called as she approached them. She smiled at him for a moment, then turned her attention to the beautiful girl at his side. "Hello, Rose."

Both Dimitri and Rose's auras flooded with irritation at the interruption. Interesting. He had expected it from Rose, but not from Belikov. Not since he was considering becoming the woman's… Guardian.

"Hey," Rose's displeasure was evident in her voice.

Natasha placed a hand on Dimitri's forearm, sliding her fingers over the leather of his coat causing Rose's aura to flare with violence. Strange how the darkness almost doubled in size. Adrian made a mental not to ponder that fact at a later date.

"You've got that look," Natasha said, her voice attempting to be seductive. In Adrian's opinion, she failed miserably.

"What look?" he asked. There was a small, knowing smile on his lips. The tall man looked almost… playful.

"That look that says you're going to be on duty all day."

"Really? I have a look like that?" His voice was teasing and flirtatious, filling Adrian with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he was gleeful, pleased to see the Russian fuck up so badly. On the other, he knew how much pain it was causing his little dhampire to witness this.

Natasha nodded. "When does your shift technically end?"

"An hour ago."

"You can't keep doing this. You need a break."

"Well … if you consider that I'm always Lissa's guardian…"

"For now," she said knowingly. Rose looked like she might actually hurl on the carpet. "There's a big pool tournament going on upstairs."

"I can't," he said, but the flirtatious smile was still on his face. "Even though I haven't played in a long time …"

Rose's misery struck him like a physical blow. He was filled with an intense dislike for Belikov that had nothing to do with the fact they were competing for the same girl. How could he act that way, right in front of her? He was practically rubbing her face in it, treating her as if she had no feelings—as if nothing had ever happened between them. This was definitely not how not you should treat someone that you—

"Come on, then," Tasha begged. "Just one round! We could take them all."

"I can't," he sounded regretful. "Not with everything going on."

She sobered a little. "No. I suppose not." Glancing at over at Rose, Tasha teased the girl, making Adrian want to slap the shit out of the scar faced bitch. "I hope you realize what a hard-core role model you have here. He's never off duty."

"Well," Rose said, copying Tasha's lilting tone from earlier, "for now, at least."

Tasha looked puzzled, her aura flooding with unease. She didn't understand Rose's anger. Adrian watched as she struggled to figure out what was wrong. Dimitri shot Rose a dark look, and unfortunately for him, Tasha caught it. Her unease was rapidly being replaced with confusion and… shock. The man was the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. The look—he'd probably intended as a warning to behave—had not been the type of look a mentor would give his student. It had been more… possessive. The look a man might give a girlfriend or wife who was behaving in a spiteful manner. Adrian could almost see the wheels spinning in Natasha's head as she studied the two people beside her. Their eyes were still locked on each other, having a silent battle. Belikov finally broke the gaze.

"We're finished here, Rose. Remember what I said." Adrian shook his head, disgusted by the way the man dismissed her.

"Yeah," Rose shot back, giving Tasha a final evil look. "Definitely."

She stormed across the lobby, forcefully shoving several people out of her way. Belikov sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face as he bit down on his lower lip. Again, he appeared to forget there was someone at his side. Someone who was watching him like a hawk.

"Dimka?" Tasha tugged at his arm, her voice uncertain. "Are you alright?"

"No. I'm not. I have a bit of a headache. I need to lie down. I'll come find you in a bit Tasha, ok?" Without waiting for an answer he stalked after Rose, probably wanting to make sure she didn't kill anyone on her way to her room.

Adrian pulled his power in, sauntering down the hall towards the confused woman who was staring at Belikov's ass. This was going to be fun. He wasn't going to do anything _too_ naughty. Maybe just a hint or two, to stir the woman up a bit.

"Lady Ozera." He said, nodding his head at her politely.

She jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. She regained her composure quickly. "Lord Ivashkov."

"Seems you… interrupted something there." He smiled, waiting for her to process his words.

"What? Oh," she forced a laugh. "You mean Dimitri and Rose? Yes. He was probably lecturing her. She's quite a handful, you know."

"Hmmm… No, actually, I wouldn't. Every time I try to spend time with her, he manages to show up and ruin it."

"Well, he is her mentor. It's his job to look after her." Her voice was icy. She didn't like where the conversation was headed.

"Mentor. Is that what they're calling it now days?" He laughed.

She glared at him, crossing her arms across her chest. "Exactly what are you implying, Adrian?"

Hah. She'd dropped his title. He was definitely getting under her skin. "I'm not implying anything. I'm merely stating what I've observed. Have you ever watched them together? The way their bodies lean towards each other? The soft looks they shoot back and forth?" He paused, pleased to see an angry flush rising on her pale cheeks. "I can't help but wonder what kind of dreams the man is having, when I wander by his room at night and hear him calling out Roza, Roza." He leaned against the wall, staring at her. "But I'm sure you're right. Perhaps he's just dreaming about being her mentor and… _training_ her to his specifications."

Tasha spun around, stalking across the lobby. Adrian smiled to himself. Natasha was going to attach herself to Belikov like glue, demanding every minute of his free time. More importantly, she would keep the other man away from Rose. Mission accomplished. He headed back to his room for a drink, followed by a nap. He had a party to attend tonight, after all.


	5. Banquet or Brawl?

Banquet or Brawl?

He arrived at the banquet room early for a change. He felt shaky again, his body longing for another fix. He knew he'd get it soon—as soon as she arrived. Rumors traveled like wildfire, so he had heard about Vasilisa and the Ozera kids fight almost as soon as it had happened. It was only natural that she'd bring her best friend to keep her company. If she didn't, well then he'd simply cut out and hunt her down. It would give them a chance to be alone together, seeing as how lover boy was on duty and would be unable to follow him.

He'd spotted Belikov as soon as he'd entered the room. The Guardian was standing in the shadows, his back to the wall, his face blank, betraying nothing. It didn't need to, his aura said it all. Confusion, guilt and dismay warred for dominance within him. While Adrian watched, the emotions were suddenly washed away, replaced with irritation and anger, tinted with the slightest hint of disgust as Natasha Ozera latched on to his arm. Adrian smirked at the determined expression on her face. She had no idea that her mere presence was pissing the Russian off.

The amusement he felt was short-lived as his attention was grabbed by movement near the entrance to the room. She was here, and God above, she looked like a wet dream. Her mouthwatering curves were encased by silky red material that clung to her like a second layer of skin. It seemed sexier than the little black dress he had seen in Belikov's dream. This dress had a high, mandarin style neck and a much longer hem, but still it hinted at the treasure that it encased like a tight-fitting glove. If he had his way, she'd wear this shade of red every day for the rest of her life. It made her long, dark hair gleam, reminding him instantly of his dream of her standing amid flickering flames. He tore his eyes away from her for just a moment, darting a glance at Belikov. The man looked as if someone had either punched him in the gut or kicked him in the family jewels. He understood the feeling, the sight of Rose in that dress had struck him in the exact same way.

He watched as she circulated the room at Lissa's side, seeming almost… demure for a change. When dinner was served, he was disappointed to discover she was on the opposite side of the room. He spent the entire time watching her, occasionally flicking glances at Belikov. The other man never seemed to take his eyes off of her. His expression was filled with such an intense longing that once again Adrian wondered how no one managed to catch on that he was so much more than just her teacher.

When dinner ended—finally—he worked the room, making his way over to Natasha, feeling the need to stir up a little trouble. She grimaced when she saw his approach but could hardly flee, since she was standing next to his dear, sweet mother.

"Mother. Lady Ozera." He bowed to the women, then kissed his mother's cheek. "Lovely gathering, isn't it? It's a shame Tatiana couldn't make it."

His mother rolled her eyes, barely paying attention —Priscilla was gossiping in her other ear. Tasha glared at him, waiting for him to speak. He smiled sweetly. "Doesn't Vasilisa look lovely tonight?"

Tasha offered a faint smile. "Yes, she does. It's a shame Christian couldn't make it."

"At least she has Rosemarie to keep her company. She's an absolute vision tonight, don't you think? That dress is spectacular."

Tasha winced. "Yes. She does look very… pretty. I gave her the dress for Christmas."

"Then you deserve a medal. I dare say Guardian Belikov agrees with me, he hasn't taken his eyes off her all night." Adrian grinned at her obvious rage. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need to have a word with him. I don't appreciate the way he's been undressing her with his eyes."

He felt her eyes burning a hole in his back as he crossed the room. When Belikov realized Adrian was approaching him, he visibly tensed. Dislike pulsed through his aura, mixed with a large amount of impatience.

"Good evening, Guardian Belikov." He leaned against the wall, studying the larger man.

"Lord Ivashkov." His voice was almost a growl.

"Doesn't our Rosebud look scrumptious tonight?"

Belikov's eyes narrowed slightly, still staring straight ahead.

"Your girlfriend did a superb job, picking out that dress for her. Every man in the place is imagining peeling it off of her, oh so slowly."

"Lady Ozera is not my girlfriend."

Adrian rolled his eyes. There was no way he was letting the man avoid his question. "Whatever. Don't you think my little dhampires looks great? I like this dress much better than the short black one she wore to your room that night."

Belikov's eyes widened, but only for a second. All too soon his mask was back in place. Only the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw showed his unease.

"To answer the question that's burning through your brain, no, she didn't tell me. You did."

Belikov glanced at him for a moment, then looked away. "I have no idea—"

"Cut the crap. Your dream last night. I was there. I saw everything. It was really rather… impressive. So impressive that it made me start thinking. My dear Aunt has been trying to get me to accept a guardian. I'm thinking of agreeing, on the condition that Rosemarie is the one assigned to me. What do you think? Great idea, huh?"

His eyes narrowed, and this time his voice was definitely a growl. "Rose will be assigned to Princess Dragomir. The Princess has already filed a request with the Guardian Counsel."

"Huh. Well I guess it's a good thing that a Queen trumps a Princess then, isn't it? I'm sure whoever is assigned to Vasilisa will take good care of her, just like I'll take excellent care of Rose." Adrian smirked at the rage the Russian was struggling to hide. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go see if my lovely little dhampire is wearing the perfume I gave her. It's called Amour, Amour. A fitting name, don't you think, for a love token?"

Adrian sauntered off, chuckling as Natasha brushed passed him, on her way to Belikov's side. He hoped that Belikov would finally get the message. Nothing was going to stand in his way. He was going to get Rose, even if it meant begging Tatiana on bended knee. Hell, he'd even agree to go back to college, as boring as that would be.

He'd watched Rose retreat to a corner a few minutes earlier. Slowly he snuck up behind her, trying to move as silently as possible so as not to alert her to his presence. She was quizzing one of the servers, trying to make a selection. Her question made him smile.

"Is that goose liver?"

The waitress shook her head. "Sweetbread."

Rose was reaching for it when he decided to speak. Better to warn her ahead of time. "It's pancreas,"

She jerked back, shocked. "What?"

The waitress took her reaction as rejection and moved on.

He stepped up beside her, looking immensely pleased with himself.

"Are you messing with me?" She demanded "'Sweetbread' is pancreas?"

He shrugged. "It's really good."

She shook her head, disgusted. "Oh, man. Rich people suck."

His amusement continued. "What are you doing here, little dhampir? Are you following me around?"

"Of course not," She scoffed as her eyes raked him over. He wasn't worried, he knew he looked good in a tux. "Especially not after all the trouble you've gotten us into."

He flashed one of his tantalizing smiles, and she took a step towards him, standing so close that her arm brushed against him. That small touch hit his system like a smooth shot of whiskey.

"I don't know," he teased, pleased as she eyes him appreciatively. "As many times as we keep seeing each other? This is, what, the fifth time? It's starting to look suspicious. Don't worry, though. I won't tell your boyfriend. Either of them."

She opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it. "I only have one boyfriend. Sort of. Maybe not anymore. And anyway, there's nothing to tell. I don't even like you."

"No?" asked Adrian, still smiling. He leaned toward her, his lips brushing against her ear. "Then why are you wearing my perfume?"

She blushed, taking a step back. "I'm not."

He laughed. "Of course you are. I counted the boxes after you left. Besides, I can smell it on you. It's nice. Sharp…but still sweet—just like I'm sure you are deep down inside. And you got it right, you know. Just enough to add an edge…but not enough to drown your own… scent."

He smiled a wicked smile, making the word scent sound as suggestive as possible.

"Hey," she said, tossing her hair back. "I had every right to take one. You offered them. Your mistake is in assuming me taking one means anything. It doesn't. Except that maybe you should be more careful with where you dump all that money of yours."

"Ooh, Rose Hathaway is here to play, folks." He paused and took a glass of what looked like champagne from a passing waiter. "You want one?"

"I don't drink.

"Right." Adrian smirked, handing her a glass anyway, then shooed the waiter away and took a drink of the champagne. "So. Sounds like our Vasilisa put my dad in his place."

"Your …" She glanced back at the group. Silver Hair still stood there, gesticulating wildly. "That guy's your dad?"

He grimaced, forcing himself to keep his tone light. "That's what my mom says."

"You agree with him? About how Moroi fighting would be suicide?"

Adrian shrugged and took another sip. "I don't really have an opinion on that."

"That's not possible. How can you not feel one way or another?"

"Dunno. Just not something I think about. I've got better things to do."

"Like stalk me," She deadpanned. "And Lissa."

He smiled again. "I told you, you're the one following me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Five times—" She stopped, confused. "Five times?"

He nodded.

"No, it's only been four." She ticked them off on her hand. "There was that first night, the night at the spa, then when I came to your room, and now tonight."

The smile turned secretive. "If you say so." He wondered if he should count the dream Belikov had. That would actually make it 6 times. He decided against it—that would only confuse her even further.

"I do say so…" Again, her words trailed off as she realized that she had actually talked to Adrian one other time. Sort of. "You can't mean …"

"Mean what?" A curious, eager expression lit his eyes. It was more hopeful than presumptuous.

She swallowed, recalling the dream. "Nothing." She took a huge gulp of champagne, making him laugh.

A bright smile crossed her face, causing him to glance across the room at Belikov. The man was watching them, his expression angry. Natasha had given up, slouching in a chair. She glared at Belikov, then at Rose, her eyes flicking from one to the other as if she were watching a tennis match. Adrian was willing to bet she was regretting purchasing the dress for Rose. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, smiling as the Russians aura turned bright green.

"Why are you smiling?" Adrian asked.

"Because Lissa's still over there, working that crowd."

"No surprise there. She's one of those people who can charm anyone she wants if she tries hard enough. Even people who hate her."

Rose shot him a look. "I feel that way when I talk to you."

"But you don't hate me," he said, finishing the last of his champagne. "Not really."

"I don't like you either."

"So you keep saying." He took a step toward her, not threatening, just making the space between them seem so much more intimate. "But I can live with that."

"Rose!" A sharp female voice cut through the air as a short angry woman stormed towards them. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing, I—"

"Excuse us, Lord Ivashkov," the newcomer growled. Grabbing Rose by the arm she practically drug her out of the room.

He stared after them, shocked by such a blatant display of rudeness. His eyes flicked to Belikov—the tall man was already in motion, following after the two women at a discreet distance. His abrupt departure had been noticed by Natasha, who sat, silently fuming as she played with the stem of her Champagne glass. Adrian sighed, wondering if he dared tail them. Remembering Janine Hathaway's furious expression, he decided against it. He could always visit Rose or Belikov's dreams to discover what happened. Patting his pockets he realized he'd left his cigarettes upstairs. Obviously, it was time to call it a night.


	6. In Dreams

It took forever for him to access a dream. Rosemarie was obviously not asleep. Finally Belikov must have decided to take a nap, because suddenly Adrian fell into a void, emerging on a snow covered rooftop. Glancing around he wondered what he'd missed. Belikov and Rose were sitting side by side on some kind of metal box, staring up into the bright morning sky. Rose began to speak, her sweet voice tinged with sadness. Her words froze him in place.

"You should take it."

Adrian stared at her, stunned. He knew instantly what she was talking about, and it filled him with remorse. She was so unselfish… so forgiving.

Belikov visibly flinched. "What?"

"Tasha's offer. You should take her up on it. It's a really great chance." Her face was a mask, not displaying the emotions he knew she was feeling. His gaze flicked to her aura, and he immediately winced. The thought tormented her, but she truly wanted the man to be happy.

"I never expected to hear you say anything like that," the Russian's voice was tight, his aura filled with dismay and sorrow. He was probably remembering Adrian's harsh words and wondering if Rose was tired of him. "Especially after—"

"What a bitch I've been? Yeah." She wrapped his coat around her body, her head dropping down to nuzzle against the collar. He heard her take a deep breath and knew she was drawing in the scent of the man she loved, committing it to memory so she could remember it when he left her. "Well. Like I said, I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want us to hate each other. And…well …" Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, as if she were fighting back tears. "No matter how I feel about us … I want you to be happy."

Silence filled the air, and it was definitely not a comfortable one. Adrian watched the golden glow around them, writhing and merging, and he noted how even in this most solemn moment, they still leaned towards each other, each one yearning for the others touch.

Belikov reached over, putting his arm around her, pulling her towards him. She rested her head against his chest, exhaling a small, sad sigh. At the moment they touched, their auras flared, shining so brightly it hurt Adrian's eyes. The darkness that surrounded her was almost completely diminished. Both were laced with a heart wrenching sorrow. It was almost enough to deter him from his decision to win her. Almost enough to make him give her up entirely.

"Roza," Belikov said, his voice heavy with emotion.

She pulled away, handing Dimitri his coat as she stood up. He studied her, his curiosity evident.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"To break someone's heart," She replied. She gazed at him for a minute longer, then walked past Adrian, heading inside.

Belikov stared after her, and Adrian was shocked to see a single tear slide down the Russian's tanned cheek. The guardian closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply as he tried to control his emotions. Adrian pulled himself out of the dream, not wanting to wait around and see if the other man broke down entirely.

The instant he was back on his bed, his mind once more fully conscious, he grabbed a vodka bottle, chugging it down as quickly as possible. He had overexerted his powers over the last two days, and the depression was slamming into him, awakened by the emotions he had witnessed on the roof. The only cure was as much alcohol as possible. He'd drink until he blacked out, then would wake up and drink some more. Anything to drown out the misery he felt seeping into every fiber of his being.

* * *

His head was throbbing, a constant, pounding rhythm that matched the beat of his heart. Good God, it was so loud that it almost sounded like—

Shit.

For the second damned day in a row, someone was knocking on his door. No—knocking was far too polite a term for what was happening. It sounded like someone was attacking his door with a sledge hammer. What the fuck? When had his room become Grand Central Station?

He glared at the mound of pillows he was cuddling—he vaguely remembered christening them Rose at some point during the night—and forced himself out of bed. He tottered for a minute, almost losing his balance, then shuffled out of the bedroom towards the door.

"Hold on a fucking minute!" His voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, wincing in pain at how raw it felt. Throwing open the door, he glared evilly at the man on the other side.

"Jesus Christ, Belikov. What the hell do you want?"

"Is Rose here?" His accent was thick and his aura was all over the place. The man was in a panic.

Adrian peered at him, not fully comprehending the question. He still had a bit too much Iordanov Vodka in his system to be playing twenty questions. "Why would you think Rose was here?"

"Let me in, Ivashkov. Natasha Ozera said she saw Rose entering this room last night." Belikov's voice was a low, threatening growl.

He laughed—he couldn't help himself. "And you were stupid enough to believe her? I haven't seen Rose since her mother dragged her out of the banquet." No need to mention he'd been spying on the other man's dreams. Not with the mood he was in.

Belikov shoved him aside, striding towards the bedroom. When the tall man uttered 'fuck' in Russian, Adrian laughed again, knowing what he'd seen. With the pillows mounded and covered, it would look like someone was in the bed. Collapsing to the floor, he held his side, wincing at the sudden pain brought on by his laughter. Shit. He wondered if his liver was exploding.

"Where is she?" Belikov demanded.

"Are you deaf? Do I need to say it in Russian? I don't know. Ask Lissa."

"The Princess has not seen her since last night." The worry in his voice was evident, helping to sober Adrian up—slightly.

"What?"

"She. Is. Missing." Dimitri spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Fuck. What can I do—"

"Nothing." The Russian was out the door. "I am sorry to have woken you."

"Belikov!" Adrian leaned out the doorway, shouting after the retreating figure. The other man didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard. His little dhampire was missing, and he was still too drunk to try and find her. He said a quick prayer that it was a false alarm and dialed room service. He was going to need coffee. Lots of it.

* * *

Three pots of coffee later and he was sober enough to attempt a spirit dream. His first attempt was a dismal failure. So were the next eight. On his tenth attempt he found himself walking along a warm sandy beach, with the Pacific Ocean expanding into the horizon. Just ahead of him he saw the most beautiful sight imaginable. Rose.

"Little dhampire. It's about time."

She turned around, her expression one of pure surprise.

"Still got your protection," he added with a smirk.

She frowned for a moment before responding. "And you're in the sun again, so I suppose it's your dream."

"It's our dream."

She looked confused. "How can two people share a dream?"

"People share dreams all the time, Rose."

Frowning, she studied him for a moment. "I need to know what you mean. About there being darkness around me. What does it mean?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Everyone has light around them, except for you. You have shadows. You take them from Lissa."

"I don't understand."

"I can't get into it right now," he said. "That's not why I'm here."

"You're here for a reason?" She asked, still frowning. "You aren't just…here to be here?"

He stepped forward and grabbed her hand, forcing her to look up at him. All amusement was gone. He was dead serious. "Where are you?"

"Here," she replied, obviously puzzled. "Just like you."

Adrian shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean. In the real world. Where are you?"

The beach suddenly blurred, like film gone out of focus. He was losing her. Shit.

"In a basement …" She said slowly. Alarm filled her voice. "Oh God, Adrian. You've got to help Mia and Christian. I can't—"

Adrian's grip tightened. "Where?" The world shimmered again, and this time it didn't refocus. He swore. "Where are you, Rose?"

The world began to disintegrate. Rose began to disintegrate.

"A basement. In a house. In—"

She was gone. He returned to himself, cursing a blue streak. So close! He had been so close to finding out what they needed. Lighting a cigarette, he began to pace. There had to be some way to find out—some way to locate her. He dropped the smoke in the ashtray, heading for the door. Maybe Lissa could think of something useful. He was out of ideas.


	7. Russian Warfare

Adrian slipped into the banquet room, closing the door behind him. "Cousin," he said by way of greeting. He sat down beside her and drew his knees up, unconcerned about his expensive dress pants. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," she said.

"You didn't know I was here until you saw me, did you?" He asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

She shook her head.

"And sitting with me … you can't really notice anything?"

"No."

He shrugged. "Well. Hopefully it'll come soon."

"How does it look for you?" Her aura flared with curiosity.

"Do you know what auras are?"

"They're like … bands of light around people, right? Some New Age thing?"

"Something like that. Everyone has a sort of spiritual energy that radiates out from them. Well, almost everyone." He hesitated, thinking about the darkness that always surrounded Rose. "Based on the color and appearance, you can tell a lot about a person…well, if anyone could actually see auras, that is."

"And you can," she said. "And you can tell I use spirit from my aura?"

"Yours is mostly gold. Like mine. It'll shift with other colors depending on the situation, but the gold always stays."

"How many other people out there like us do you know?"

"Not many. I just see them every once in a while. They kind of keep to themselves. You're the first I've actually ever talked to. I didn't even know it was called 'spirit.' Wish I'd known about this when I didn't specialize. I just figured I was some kind of freak."

Lissa held up her arm, staring at it intently, as if she could will herself to see something. She sighed and let the arm drop, letting Adrian know she had failed miserably.

"So, they finally let you go?" Adrian asked her.

"Yeah. They finally decided I really didn't know anything."

"Good," he said. He frowned for a moment, wondering if he should ask his next question. "And you're sure you don't?"

"I already told you that. I can't make the bond work that way."

"Hmm. Well. You've got to."

She glared. "What, you think I'm holding back? If I could find her, I would!"

"I know, but to have it at all, you must have a strong connection. Use that to talk to her in her dreams. I tried, but I can't hang on long enough to—"

"What did you say?" exclaimed Lissa. "Talk to her in her dreams?"

He stared at her, puzzled. "Sure. Don't you know how to do that?"

"No! Are you kidding? How is that even possible?"

He ran a hand through his hair and tipped his head back, staring at the crystal chandelier above as he pondered. "Okay. So. You don't see auras, and you don't talk to people in dreams. What do you do?"

"I … I can heal people. Animals. Plants, too. I can bring dead things back to life."

"Really?" That was impressive. "Okay. You get credit for that. What else?"

"Um, I can use compulsion."

"We can all do that."

"No, I can really do it. It's not hard. I can make people do anything I want—even bad things."

"So can I." Adrian's eyes lit up. "I wonder what would happen if you tried to use it on me…."

She hesitated and absentmindedly ran her fingers over the textured red carpet. "Well… I can't."

"You just said you could."

"I can—just not right now. I take this prescription … for depression and other stuff…and it cuts me off from the magic."

He threw his arms up in the air. "How can I teach you to walk through dreams then? How else are we going to find Rose?"

"Look," she said angrily, "I don't want to take the meds. But when I was off them … I did really crazy stuff. Dangerous stuff. That's what spirit does to you."

"I don't take anything. I'm okay," he said.

"You got really weird that day when Dimitri was in your room," she pointed out. "You started rambling, and you didn't make any sense."

"Oh, that? Yeah … it happens now and then. But seriously, not often. Once a month, if that." He sounded sincere.

Lissa stared at him, and he could tell she was contemplating what he's said.

He smiled, guessing what she was thinking. "What do you say, cousin?" he asked. He didn't need to use compulsion. His offer was plenty tempting in its own right. "I can teach you everything I know if you're able to touch the magic. It'll take a while for the pills to get out of your system, but once they do, just think about what we can learn from each other."

Lissa gave him a small smile. "I'll think about it. It's not like it will do us any good today. Can you try to contact her again?"

Adrian sighed. He really didn't think Rose would be asleep again quite so soon. "Yes, but I can't do it right away. I wish there were some other way—" He stared at Lissa, an idea forming in the recesses of his brain.

"What?"

"I have to talk to Belikov. Now."

* * *

The Guardians had set up a command post in an empty conference room, and it was a mess. Half empty coffee cups were on every available surface. Maps were tacked to the walls and trash was scattered throughout the room. There were twelve or so Guardians spread out through the room, the most noticeable being Janine Hathaway and Dimitri. Rose's mother had her head down, resting on her folded arms. Belikov was pacing like a caged tiger; his hair—normally pulled back neatly—was hanging around his face. As Adrian watched, he ran a hand through it, dislodging several more strands from the tie at the base of his neck. He looked almost… crazed.

A dhampire woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties was watching Belikov's frenzied movement with a worried expression on her face. Adrian had met her before and he searched his memory for her name. It was something easy… Petrol. No—it had something to do with alcohol. Petrov, like the vodka.

Adrian studied her aura, making note of the fact she was suspicious about something. Well hell. It appeared that someone else _had _noticed the strange interactions between Rose and her mentor. Of course, Belikov's mini-meltdown wasn't helping matters, it would just further her suspicion that there was more to the relationship than met the eye. He had to get the Russian out of here, for Rose's sake.

"Lord Ivashkov. Do you need something?" Petrov's gaze switched from the pacing man to the handsome young royal.

"I need a moment with Guardian Belikov."

"Not now." Dimitri growled.

"Look—" Adrian began, only to be cut off when the tall man spun, grabbing his collar and yanking him off his feet.

"I do not have time for your games, _boy_!" His accent was so pronounced that his words were almost indecipherable.

"BELIKOV!" Petrov's voice sounded shocked. "Let him go. NOW!"

With a growl Dimitri released his shirt, shoving him away. He glared at Adrian with a look of pure hatred.

The woman spoke again, her voice softer this time. "Take a break Dimitri."

"No."

"That was an order, not a suggestion. I'll call you if we hear anything."

Belikov stormed out of the room, not caring that every eye was on him. Adrian followed him, determined to make him listen.

"Well that was brilliant. You do realize that she suspects there's something going on between you and Rose, right?"

"Ivashkov, right now I do not care if the fucking _Queen_ suspects." He resumed his pacing , this time in the lobby.

"I think I know a way—"

"Dimka!"

Jesus fucking Christ. Could he please just finish a sentence? Adrian glared at Natasha as she scurried across the lobby towards them. "You realize her _childish_ game—sending you on a wild goose chase—wasted valuable time when you might have caught up with Rose, right?" Adrian asked the man beside him, his voice almost a whisper. "Rose would _never _have done something like that in such a serious situation."

Dimitri began making a dangerous noise deep in his chest, as if he were about to attack. Adrian winced, hoping the noise wasn't directed at him.

"Any word?" Tasha's face was full of worry, but strangely enough, her aura was full of glee.

"No." Belikov's voice was harsh.

She looked hurt. "What's wrong Dimka?"

He looked at her as if she were an idiot. "What's wrong? Did you actually just ask me that? Rose is missing. Your nephew is missing, along with three other students."

"I didn't mean that the way it came out." Tasha grabbed onto Dimitri's arm.

"Let. Go." His voice held a barely disguised warning. "You _lied _to me. Rose was never with Adrian last night."

She flinched back, releasing him. "Dimka, She was! I saw her! I—"

"Get out of my sight. I'll talk to you later." He resumed his pacing, pointedly ignoring her until she finally gave up and stormed outside.

"Jesus. Finally. I've been trying to tell you I talked to Rose earlier and—"

"WHAT?"

"Not in person—it was in a dream and she said—"

Dimitri's hands fisted at his sides. "Ivashkov…"

"Listen to him, Guardian Belikov. It has to do with spirit. He's a spirit user, just like me, but he can talk to people in their dreams."

Lissa. Thank God. For a minute, he thought he was going to get the shit beat out of him. "Rose said they're being held in a basement and they need help. I won't be able to contact her again for a while, because she just woke up. But if you can get me pictures of the other kids, maybe I can reach one of them. It's worth a shot, anyway."

Belikov stared at him for a moment then nodded. "I'll meet you in your room in ten minutes. Princess, if you'll follow me, I need you to explain this to Guardian Petrov."

Adrian sighed, longing for a drink. He pulled out a cigarette, ignoring the no smoking sign and headed for his room. Belikov was going to owe him for this. Big time.


	8. You're a Coward

He was in Hell. Purgatory. Hades. Whatever you wanted to call it, the location remained the same. Over a period of several hours, he had tried—and failed—to contact the missing students. He had, in fact, tried so many times that he seriously thought he might be suffering from some sort of aneurism.

Full-fledged withdrawal was hitting him hard, and this time it wasn't because he needed to see his little dhampire. He needed a drink. Or twenty. He needed a cigarette. Just one or two puffs, to take the edge off. Just a swallow or two of liquid fire to ease the burning thirst.

His body was covered in sweat, quivering as if he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket. His breathing was hitched, his brain demanding nicotine. His mouth and throat were completely dry, and water could not begin to ease the ache.

Damn Dimitri Belikov to hell.

The man had removed _every single _bottle that Adrian had stashed throughout his suite. Every pack of cigarettes had been collected and hidden somewhere in the pockets of that ridiculous, ever present coat. He had even emptied the fucking ashtrays, so there was not a half smoked butt in sight. Adrian eyed the large man, actually contemplating attacking him so he could search the coat for a smoke.

The Russian sat across the room, watching him with a threatening expression on his normally calm face. Ever so often he would pace the room, muttering curses in Russian. He was waiting for Adrian to perform some kind of miracle.

Too bad it wasn't fucking happening.

"Look, I told you, the only person I've been able to reach is the Castile kid, and it's like he's hopped up on something—his mind is a mess, on some kind of crazy drug trip." Adrian ran his hands through his messy hair, frustrated beyond words.

"Try again."

"This isn't exactly easy, Belikov," he snapped. "It isn't an exact science. I can't _make_ them dream about their location if I don't _know_ where they are!"

"You made me dream about—"

"Oh nonononono. I most certainly the fuck did not. That little occurrence was all on you. I was just a spectator."

Belikov arched an eyebrow, as if to say 'bullshit'.

"You're an idiot. How could I make you dream about something that I had no idea occurred? You relived your little passion party all on your own. Although I must say, I enjoyed the show. Rose has got a hell of a body."

The other man growled, his fists clenching at his sides. Adrian realized he might have overstepped his boundaries. "Look, I'll try again, ok?"

Belikov began pacing; his long legs making the trip across the room take only a few steps. He was seriously getting on Adrian's last nerve. What the hell did Rose see in the moody asshole?

Closing his eyes, he focused on the Rinaldi girl. He thought about her deep blue eyes and her curly blond hair. He thought about her childishly cute face. Nothing.

"It's not working. I don't understand—"

"Try again." Belikov cut him off. "Roza is in danger. I can feel it."

"Why the hell do you even care? You dumped her for the Ozera bitch. You hurt her." The words were out before Adrian even realized it. He flinched at the expression on the other man's face, followed by a wave of relief when the Russian didn't attack.

"That's between Rose and I. It does not concern you."

"If Rose dies because of Natasha Ozera's stupid game, I promise you, the woman will pay." His normal carefree voice was heavy with malice. "You may think I'm nothing more than some spoiled party boy, but I promise you—I will do _whatever _it takes to see your girlfriend prosecuted for her false information. The queen will back me up."

Belikov was in his face before he knew what had happened. "She is _not _my girlfriend. Don't say it again. I don't care what happens to Natasha Ozera—the only thing that matters to me is Roza's safety!"

"Fine. Glad we're on the same page." Adrian smirked. "Now get the fuck out of my face so I can try again."

He ignored the fact that Belikov called him a jackass in Russian and focused on Rose. Her hair. Her eyes. Her scent—so intoxicating. Her aura and the darkness it contained.

He walked into her dream, gazing around with interest. He hadn't exerted any influence, it was a viewing, not a spirit dream. He had appeared in the middle of a gymnasium. There was a line of practice dummies waiting for use. A stack of thick padded mats. A loud, exaggerated female sigh drew his attention to the far side of the room.

"This isn't a Christmas special! This is my life. In the real world, miracles and goodness just don't happen."

Belikov stood in front of her, stoic and calm. "In the real world, you can make your own miracles."

"Okay, can you just stop this for once?" She demanded, placing her hands on her curvy hips.

"Stop what?"

"The whole profound Zen crap thing. You don't talk to me like a real person. Everything you say is just some wise, life-lesson nonsense. You really do sound like a Christmas special." Her voice was getting louder by the minute, the darkness that surrounded her pulsing with each word. "I swear, sometimes it's just like you want to hear yourself talk! And I know you're not always this way. You were perfectly normal when you talked to Tasha. But with me? You're just going through the motions. You don't care about me. You're just stuck in your stupid mentor role."

The Russian looked absolutely stunned. "I don't care about you?"

"No." Rose jabbed her index finger into his chest. "I'm another student to you. You just go on and on with your stupid life lessons so that—"

Quick as a cobra, the man reached out his grabbing the hand that had been poking him and pinning it to the wall. His aura flared with passion and need. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling," he growled.

"That's it, isn't it?" She asked.

"What?"

"You're always fighting for control. You're the same as me."

Dear sweet Rosebud. Always pushing. Adrian was willing to bet she was the type of person who, when using a pencil, pressed down so hard the lead snapped off.

"No," he said. "I've learned my control."

Ha! He was so full of shit. The man was a ticking time bomb. His absolute loss of control in the Guardian command center was proof of that.

"No," Rose declared. "You haven't. You put on a good face, and most of the time you do stay in control. But sometimes you can't. And sometimes …" I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Sometimes you don't want to."

"Rose…"

Belikov's breathing was getting heavier by the minute. So was Roses, for that matter. Her fabulous chest was rising and falling more and more rapidly as she stared at her mentor.

She kissed him. And it was totally obvious, even to an observer that he was kissing her beck. Hell, he even took it a step further, pressing himself against her, trapping her body against the wall. His free hand slid up, entwining itself in her hair. Their small sounds of pleasure filled the gym for a moment before Belikov jerked away, stepping away from her. He looked… shaken.

"Do not do that again," he said stiffly.

"Don't kiss me back then," She snapped. Hurt was evident on her beautiful face.

He stared at her for a moment before speaking. "I don't give 'Zen lessons' to hear myself talk. I don't give them because you're another student. I'm doing this to teach you control."

"You're doing a great job." Her voice was bitter, full of the hurt and anger that surrounded her like a muted rainbow.

He closed his eyes for half a second, exhaled, and muttered something in Russian. Without another glance at Rose, he stormed out of the room.

Adrian came back to the present with a glare on his face. "You really are a complete and total ass."

Belikov wasn't expecting that. "What?"

"The way you treat Rose. Do you have any idea what that does to a woman's self esteem?"

"She's only seventeen. She isn't—"

"Don't feed me your line of bullshit, Belikov. It doesn't matter if a woman is seventeen, twenty seven, hell—even forty! Your little games fuck with her mind. Any woman would be hurt by them."

Belikov glared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"She's dreaming about _you_. About what happened between the two of you when she kissed you in the gym."

The other man paled, sinking down on a chair. "I—"

"Save it." Adrian snapped. "I don't give a shit about your excuses. You may be some bad ass Guardian, but when it comes to your feelings for Rose, you're nothing but a goddamned coward."

With that, he leaned back, closed his eyes and attempted to contact Christian Ozera.


	9. Shifting Visions

The Ozera kid was a bust. All Adrian could access was the image of Rose smashing a Maglite on the back of the head of a Guardian. Sighing, he scooped up the sketchpad that rested beside him on the couch and made note of what he had seen. After relaying it to Belikov, he stared at the pictures in front of him, deciding to try and contact Rose's little lapdog again. He didn't understand why he was having so much trouble reaching them—this kid should be a piece of cake. Not only did he have a picture to reference, but he knew the kids aura—had studied it closely, searching the boy's emotions only a few days before at that stupid meeting.

Red hair. Bright blue eyes. Aura filled with devotion to Rose, swirling with baby pink and the lightest shade of lilac. Come on Ashford… Where are you?

Fuck—yes! He was in. But this was… weird. Not like any dream viewing he'd ever had before. He wasn't an observer, it felt like he was reliving memories through the Ashford kid's mind, almost as if he were possessing the Ashford kid. There was a plaza, a wide, open area. It was… a shopping center. A café with umbrella shaded tables. A door marked staff only. A set of stairs going down into darkness. A narrow corridor, with grimy, nasty looking cement, lit from above with ugly, buzzing fluorescent lights. There was a… passageway leading off to the left and right. Suddenly letters appeared before him—DBCOTDVLDZSI. Some had lines and x marks next to them. It puzzled him, but only for a minute or two. Drozdov. Badica. Conta. Ozera. The first letter of every royal family's name was there. Someone was keeping track of—

The vision swirled, as if he had been caught in a tornado. Thoughts that were not his own played through the twisting darkness that surrounded him.

Rose's fault. All Rose's fault. The Ashford kid was blaming Rose for the mess they were in. Adrian decided to keep that little tidbit of information to himself, for the time being. She was going to be in enough trouble without having everyone lay the blame for this fuck up at her feet.

Suddenly, he was in a room, and could see the missing students strapped to uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs. Rose was speaking, her voice sounding shaky.

"Use me," she said. "Drink from me." She was speaking to someone that Adrian couldn't see, the person was hidden in shadows.

"You're volunteering?"

"I've done it before. Let Moroi feed off me, I mean. I don't mind. I like it. Leave the rest of them alone."

"Rose!" exclaimed Mason.

The man stepped into the light and Adrian felt himself hyperventilating. It was a Strigoi. His skin was white, chalky looking, as if he were wearing thick clown makeup. The pupils of his eyes had a red ring around them, signifying the demon that dwelt inside his soul. Looking at his face, you knew you were looking at death. It was completely devoid of any sort of warmth or gentler emotion. His expression was cold and calculating, laced with malicious amusement. He was tall, as tall as Belikov, with shoulder-length black hair and dark brown eyes. And Rose was offering herself to him as a sacrifice, trying to save the others.

The crack of a large hand across his cheek ripped him out of the dream. He stared up at Belikov, realizing that he had begun crying. Adrian swiped at his cheek, embarrassed to have the other man see them. Then he remembered what he had witnessed, and his tears were forgotten in an instant.

"Oh God. Oh fuck. Strigoi. Rose is offering herself, trying to save them."

* * *

In hindsight, he probably should have kept his damned mouth shut until he knew their location. Belikov went berserk when he realized Adrian had no information to offer other than the fact Rose was offering herself up to the Strigoi —she'd be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb.

The coffee table was now nothing more than a heap of kindling. The crystal ashtray had been shattered into a million sparkling shards—not that he needed it, since Dimitri 'Stalin' Belikov had commandeered all his smokes. As for the rest of the room… well, let's just say it was a good thing that people were used to Adrian Ivashkov throwing wild parties. Belikov had decimated it in his fury. It looked like they had been through an earthquake.

After instructing the Russian not to wake him again, Adrian slipped back into Mason Ashford's mind with relative ease. The group was walking down an unremarkable street, everyone quiet and somewhat gloomy. Castile stopped walking, and Rose almost ran into him.

"Where are we?"

Rose looked around, her face full of confusion. "Damn it! Are we lost? Didn't anyone keep track of which way we went?"

Mason pointed. "This way."

Adrian struggled to keep up with them. It wasn't that they were walking fast, just that he had pushed his body to its breaking point. Walking down the narrow street between two buildings didn't seem like the best of ideas, but he was simply a spectator to events that were being remembered. He couldn't stop them.

The group hadn't gotten very far when the sound of an engine and squealing tires filled the air. Mia was walking in the middle of the road and Rose grabbed her, jerking her out of the street and pressing her up against one of the buildings. The boys did the same, so Adrian copied their actions.

A large, gray van with tinted windows had rounded the corner and was straight for the little group. Everyone remained pressed flat against the wall, waiting for it to go past.

Too bad it didn't.

Screeching to a halt, it stopped and the doors slid open. Three big guys spilled out, and again, Rose was the first to respond. One of the men moved toward Christian and Rose struck out, punching him. The guy staggered, his face reflecting the surprise he felt. He probably hadn't expected the curvaceous 5'7 girl to be a threat. Ignoring Christian, he moved toward Rose. What a fucking idiot.

Mason and Eddie squared off with the other newcomers, Mason pulling out a silver stake that he must have stolen from one of the Guardian's back at the resort. Mia and Christian stood there, frozen, looking like deer trapped in headlights.

The guy who'd been sparring with Mason seemed to realize they were losing the fight. They were, after all, only human, and they were battling against three almost fully trained dhampires. He backed off from Mason, grabbing Mia Rinaldi, pressing a gun barrel to the side of her pale neck. Rose screamed at Eddie, demanding he stop his attack. Castile glanced at Rose, then paled when he saw that Mia had been taken hostage.

Adrian was filled with frustration. He wanted to intervene, to help them somehow, but how could you fight a memory? He had to keep reminding himself that the events had already occurred and to keep himself hidden. He had to take in as much as Ashford's memory dream as possible, and pray that it would give them the information necessary to track them down.

He could tell that Rose was near her breaking point, her aura was pulsing with a brilliant orange-red, indicating she was in the depths of a rage. The blackness around her billowed like clouds threatening to burst forth in a torrential downpour.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice harsh, but steady.

The guy pressed his gun closer to Mia's neck, and she whimpered. Nodding his head towards the door of the van, he smiled. "I want you to get inside. And don't start anything. You do, and she's gone."

Rose, for once, didn't argue. Adrian knew she placed Moroi life above her own, and the thought saddened him. It was wrong. So, so wrong, that dhampires were raised this way. Sure, he may be overly class conscious, and he could admit he treated most dhampires like second class citizens, but that was how his parents had raised him. Watching Rose made him rethink everything he had ever been taught. He started to climb into the van, but it disappeared before his eyes, the narrow alleyway blurring. He stood in darkness, and again, thoughts that were not his own flooded his mind. The group hadn't been blindfolded, which was never a good sign. It meant their captors had no plans to release them.

The scene reformed around him, and he realized that Ashford must have zoned out during the drive, not paying any attention to where they were going. The idiot. He was suddenly in the back of the van as it turned down a quiet cul-de-sac, pulling up to a very ordinary—yet large—house. Other houses—identical in the way suburban homes often are—stood nearby. Luckily Adrian had an artist's eye, and was committing every single detail to memory. If he could memorize enough details, he might be able to—

SHIT.

The scene blurred again, melting and morphing into another location. He drug his hand through his hair, tugging in frustration. He was back at the resort, in a guest room, watching Rose and Ashford discuss something.

Rose shrugged her shoulders, collapsing on the bed. "Dimitri said—"

"I know, I know … I heard you. About being careful and all that." Ashfor paced, seeming… angry about something. "But if those Strigoi go after another Moroi…another family…damn it! They're going to wish they weren't so careful then."

"Forget about it," Rose said. She looked irritated with the boy. "There's nothing we can do."

He stopped walking. "We could go."

"Go where?"

"To Spokane. There are buses you can catch in town." Ashford smiled, trying to convince her

"I … wait. You want us to go to Spokane and take on Strigoi?"

"Sure. Eddie'd do it too … we could go to that mall. They wouldn't be organized or anything, so we could wait and pick them off one by one …"

Rose stared at him as if he were an insect. "When did you get so dumb?"

"Oh, I see. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"It's not about confidence," she argued, standing up and approaching him. "You kick major ass. I've seen it. But this … this isn't the way. We can't go get Eddie and take on Strigoi. We need more people. More planning. More information."

She put her hands on his chest, trying, Adrian supposed, to distract him from his idiotic plan. Mason placed his hands on top of hers and smiled.

"I didn't mean to call you dumb," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You're just saying that now because you want to have your way with me."

Adrian grimaced. He really didn't like this kid. Not one little bit. If Ashford screwed Rose, he'd end the dream. Then tell Belikov, who would probably strangle the boy.

"Of course I am," Rose laughed.

"Well," he said, "I don't think I'm going to be too hard to take advantage of."

"Good. Because there are lots of things I want to do." Her hands slid around his neck.

Adrian gagged. Damn it Rose, really? He studied her aura, smirking when he read the emotions displayed. Ahhh… She was angry. Probably at Belikov. She was forcing herself to play with Ashford, in an attempt to get the Russian out of her system.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mason said, "You really are his student."

"Whose?"

"Belikov's. I was just thinking about when you mentioned needing more information and stuff. You act just like him. You've gotten all serious since you've been hanging out with him."

Adrian's smirk grew into a full-fledged smile as Rose's entire demeanor changed. The teenager hadn't realized it, but by mentioning Belikov, he had just cock blocked himself. Rose had been trying to forget her 'mentor', and Ashford reminded her of the man at the absolute worst possible time.

"No, I haven't."

The kid pulled her closer, but it was totally obvious that Rose was over the entire 'romantic' interlude. Being a typical teenager, he was completely oblivious to the fact that she was deep in thought. Adrian would have loved to know what going through her mind. Judging by her aura, he'd hazard a guess that the item in question was bigger than a breadbox, standing about 6'7.

"You've just changed, that's all. It's not bad … just different."

Her aura flared a bright orange and she looked like she was about to snap at him, but she didn't get the chance because he kissed her.

She yanked him down on the bed; his hands slid up the back of my neck and released her hair from its tight ponytail. Running his fingers through the unbound hair, he shifted his mouth down and kissed her neck.

Oh yeah. If Belikov didn't kill the kid, Adrian decided he would do it himself. Shaking his head in disgust, he leaned against the wall, wondering if he were actually going to gather any further information about where in Spokane they had been headed.

"You are … amazing," Ashford murmured. Rose apparently liked that, because she arched upward, letting his hands slip under the bottom of her shirt.

Adrian, watching her aura, realized the moment she figured out what she was doing, and who she was actually doing it with.

She jerked away from him, her aura flashing panic. "No … don't."

Mason stopped. "Too much?" he asked. She nodded. "That's okay. We don't have to do that."

He reached for her again, and she moved farther away. "No, I just don't… I don't know. Let's call it quits, okay?"

"I…" He was speechless. "What happened to the 'lots of things' you wanted to do?"

She stared at him, her face sad. "I'm sorry, Mase. I just can't."

He sat up and ran a hand over his hair. "Okay. All right."

"You're mad."

He glanced over at Rose, his face angry. "I'm just confused. I can't read your signals. One moment you're hot, the next you're cold. You tell me you want me, you tell me you don't. If you picked one, that'd be fine, but you keep making me think one thing and then you end up going in a completely different direction. Not just now—all the time."

"Is there something you want me to do?" he asked when she failed to respond "Something that'll… I don't know. Make you feel better about me?"

"I don't know." Her voice sounded sad.

He sighed. "Then what do you want in general?"

Belikov. Duh. Adrian shook his head, wondering if he appeared as pathetic as the Ashford boy did. He'd been chasing after her too.

"I don't know."

With a groan, he stood up and headed for the door. "Rose, for someone who claims she wants to gather as much information as possible, you really have a lot to learn about yourself."

As soon as the door slammed, the dream faded. Adrian didn't fight to hold onto it—he had all the information he needed. Ashford was blaming Rose because she'd obviously ended up rejecting him. They were somewhere in Spokane, in a house he could sketch.

He came 'awake' with a sudden flinching movement. He smelled blood. Glancing down, he was shocked to see the front of his white shirt coated with it. His nose was bleeding. Even more strange, his sketchpad was in hand—he had reproduced the house down to the very last detail, all while in the midst of his spirit trance.

"Are you all right? You told me not to wake—"  
Adrian waved off the man's question, feeling dizzy and weak. He had no idea how he had had the ability to draw out the image. His entire conscious mind had been focused on the dream. Being a spirit user was just one wonderful fucking surprise after another.

He shoved the tablet at Belikov. "That's where they are. It's in Spokane. Now give me my fucking cigarettes and go save our girl."


	10. How Charming

He realized—too late, of course—that he should have cleaned himself up and changed his shirt before leaving his suite. At the time, however, his mind was completely fixed on finding a bottle of vodka. He'd forgotten to ask Belikov where he had stashed his supply.

His excessive use of spirit had drained him to the point that he felt almost too weak to walk. The hallway was empty, he supposed all the Guardians were preparing to rush off like the cavalry to save the missing kiddies. When he wandered into the lobby—it had taken almost ten minutes to make the trip—the first person to spot him was Guardian Petrov. She rushed to his side, a horrified expression on her face.

"Lord Ivashkov! Did he hit you?"

Adrian stared at her, dumbfounded by her question. "What? Who?"

"Belikov. Did he do this?"

Shit.

"No, I… overexerted myself." He smiled. Even that small movement felt like it took a monumental amount of energy.

She had an expression on her face that clearly stated she didn't believe a word he said. He realized that now might be a perfect time to rectify Belikov's earlier indiscretions. Not out of any desire to help the Russian; Adrian's sole concern was to protect Rose.

"Guardian Petrov," he smiled at her, focusing all his attention on her. When her eyes locked with his emerald gaze he caught her in his compulsion, amping it up with a burst of spirit. "What's your first name, Guardian Petrov?"

"Al… Alberta," she stammered.

"What a beautiful name. It fits you perfectly, you know—a beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful woman."

Her girlish giggle made him smile.

"You're going to forget all about Guardian Belikov's earlier outburst, Alberta. His behavior has been totally and completely normal, hasn't it?"

"Of course it has." Her voice had a strange, dreamlike quality to it.

"Rose Hathaway and Guardian Belikov have the most professional student-teacher relationship, don't you think?"

"Yes. They're very… dedicated to each other."

Adrian frowned. That—in his opinion—was entirely too close to the truth, for his liking.

"There's nothing suspicious about their behavior, is there Alberta?"

"No. Not at all."

Adrian swayed on his feet. "Thank you. It's been lovely chatting with you, Alberta."

"Likewise, Lord Ivashk—"

He fell forward, landing on top of her as his consciousness drained away in a single heartbeat.

* * *

When he woke up, he was in the resorts infirmary, with Vasilisa sitting nearby. Her head was tilted back, her eyes closed, making tiny, delicate snoring sounds. He watched her for a moment, enjoying the feeling of having someone sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to awake. It was the first time in his life someone had ever cared enough to do it. His mother didn't have a maternal bone in her body, and his previous girlfriends—well, the less said about them, the better. Meeting Vasilisa had been a blessing in more ways than one. Not only had he gained access to someone who shared his element, but he'd also found a… damn, what the hell was she? A friend, definitely, but his feelings were stronger than that. She was the little sister he'd always wanted. Yeah—that's exactly what she was. The thought pleased him. He glanced at his watch, realizing he had somehow lost an hour of his life.

"What the fuck?" His voice was loud in the high ceilinged room.

Lissa jerked away, looking startled. When she realized Adrian was conscious, she beamed at him. "Thank God!"

"I repeat, what the fuck, cousin? What happened?"

"You blacked out. Guardian Petrov carried you in here before heading to Spokane. You're a hero, Adrian!"

"No—I'm not. I don't want anyone to know about my part in this whole screwed up incident." He frowned. "Especially not Rose. Get someone on the phone now."

Lissa looked confused. "Why? What you did was—"

"Because I refuse to have everyone know what I can do. I'm not going to become some sort of walking, talking GPS. It takes too much out of me."

"But—"

Adrian cut her off. "Fine, I'll do it myself." He threw his legs over the side of the bed, preparing to rise.

"No. I'll do it. Stay in bed. I'll be back in a minute."

Adrian watched her hurry off, pleased with the excuse his brain had provided on the spur of the moment. The truth was, he didn't want people to know he had the ability to view or change their dreams. They would be even more afraid of being around him than they were now. Better to be known as a crazy drunk than someone who could access hidden thoughts and feelings. Hell, Rose would never come near him again if she knew some of the things he'd seen in the Russian's head. As soon as he was able, he'd use compulsion on Belikov to wipe any memories of his abilities from the other man's mind.

A nurse entered, trailed by a young red haired human. He smiled at them both, knowing he probably looked like absolute shit. He needed a cigarette. Followed as quickly as possible by massive amounts of alcohol—he had to figure out where Dimitri had hidden it. Asshole.

"Hello ladies. What's shakin?"

The nurse rolled her eyes. "I've brought you a feeder, Lord Ivashkov. Once you're finished, you can leave. Your vitals have all returned to normal."

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. He had no need of medical help, he could have told them the problem, had he actually been awake. Hell, he'd told Petrov right before he'd used his compulsion. He had drained himself. For years he'd used his vices to mute the power within him, and going almost cold turkey over the last 72 hours had made him reckless, drawing too much on the element he held within himself. He probably should have waited until he recharged before exerting himself further, but he had to protect Rose from the school finding out about her and Belikov playing footsie together. He smirked, realizing that after everything that had happened, there was no way in hell Belikov would take Natasha's offer. Too bad, that meant they were still competing for the same girl.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed—yet again—he held out his hand to the feeder, drawing her close to his body. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Gina." She giggled.

He sighed. Flirting seemed like such a waste when the only woman he felt like being with was Rose. "Well little Gina, close your eyes and count to three. I'm about to send you to never-never land." He waited a moment, and then leaned forward, biting down sharply on her outstretched neck. The woman gave a loud moan of pleasure, and Adrian couldn't help but remember the erotic sounds sweet Rose had made when he'd watched her in Belikov's dream.


	11. Lunacy Saves the Day

When Lissa returned she assured him that no one except Guardians Belikov and Petrov were aware of his involvement, and that both agreed to keep the part he played quiet. He felt immediate relief, knowing he was more than able to deal with them. Lissa smiled at him, apologetically, advising him that she had to pack. It appeared that the students would be returning to Saint Vlad's in three hours' time. Adrian blanched at the news, realizing that meant he wouldn't be able to see Rose again.

Wandering back to his room, he discovered where his vodka had been hidden. It was the last place he would have looked, Belikov was excellent at finding obscure hiding places. Had it not been for the face two maids were passed out in the doorway to the janitorial closet, he would have passed right on by. Stepping over their prone bodies and glaring at the four empty bottles, he grabbed the cardboard carton off the shelf, stumbling slightly under its weight.

Sinking down on the sofa in his suite, he cracked open a new bottle, feeling heartbroken. He couldn't believe that after all he had done, he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to his little dhampire. After a few pulls on the bottle, he set it aside, digging in his pocket for his cell phone. Flipping through his contacts, he selected a number that—to the best of his knowledge—only a select handful of people had access to. Somewhere between drink number one and five he had come up with a plan. A brilliant, beautiful plan that would enable him to be near Rose. All it required was—

"Hello Auntie dearest. Guess who?"

* * *

The queen had been absolutely thrilled with his idea. She had actually praised him for being an 'insightful, clever boy'. Her words had warmed his heart, filling him with pride. All too often he felt like an out-and-out loser, due to his father's constant criticism. Of course, he'd only relayed _part of_ his plan to Tatiana. He conveniently failed to mention the fact Rosemarie Hathaway was his sole reason for coming up with the notion in the first place.

He packed his things quickly then sat down with his bottle to wait for the front desk to call, alerting him that his fax had arrived. Ten minutes later he was hurrying through the lobby to collect his prize, arranging for his luggage to be added to the bags heading to the airstrip.

He was lounging on the couch, waiting to depart when Natasha Ozera appeared, suitcase in hand. Adrian waited for her to finish checking out, then strolled up beside her, grabbing her arm.

"Leaving so soon, Lady Ozera? Shouldn't you be waiting for Guardian Belikov?" His voice held barely contained mirth.

"He declined my offer, Ivashkov, but I'm sure you knew that." She glared at him for a moment, then a sly smile crept across her face. "At least, he declined, this time. Once I have a chance to… chat with him, I think he'll see the error of his ways and change his mind."

Adrian drug her towards the sofa, shoving her down and holding her in place by snaking his arm around her shoulder. "Hmmm. Now I wonder what that chat might entail. Compulsion, perhaps?"

"What goes on between Dimka and I is none of your fucking business," she hissed.

He rolled his eyes. "You're absolutely right, of course. However, in the interest of protecting my sweet little Rosebud, I feel obliged to intervene. Leave it alone, Tasha. If you use compulsion on him, I'll turn you in to the council."

She glared at him for a moment before responding. "If you want the little blood whore so bad why are you interfering?"

He sat contemplating his thoughts before answering. "If I ever hear you call her that again, you'll regret it. She doesn't deserve it, she's always taken up for you—it's not her fault Belikov loves her. The other night on the roof, Rose told him to take your offer, because she wanted him to be happy. She thought that being with you would give him what he needed. Even though it broke her heart to say the words, she forced herself to do what was right because she loved him. I'm trying to follow the example she set for me."

Tasha made a sound of disgust, letting her anger get in the way of her brain. "Then you're a fool. All I have to do is tell Dimka I'm going to reveal their little secret, and he'll do whatever I ask." As soon as she spoke, she realized her mistake. Dismay turned her aura a dark greyish purple.

"Ah— you're going to blackmail him. You know, darling, it's never a smart move to alert the enemy as to what you're planning. They'll use it against you every time." He gave her a winning smile before continuing. "I would suggest you rethink your plan. It would be in your best interest to leave Rose and Belikov alone and to keep your fucking mouth shut."

"Is that a threat?" Her voice was filled with amusement. "You don't scare me in the slightest."

"You tried to frame the Queens favorite great-nephew with the disappearance of an underage dhampire girl. Five students were being held against their will by a group of Strigoi while you were playing childish pranks, leading the Guardians on a wild goose chase. If I were you, I might want to rethink my position on exactly how scary an Ivashkov can be."

She stared at him, and her aura displayed the tiniest amount of fear. He smiled slyly, deciding to scare her just a little bit more.

"Aunt Tatiana was pretty pissed when she heard what had happened, especially considering every Guardian in the lodge could back up my story. She was talking about having you hauled in front of the council. Lucky for you I sweet-talked her into ignoring the situation." He pulled out his phone, flipping it open. "Of course, if you want to act like a stupid, ungrateful bitch, I can always call her back and tell her I've changed my mind."

Tasha's shoulders slumped, her aura filling with defeat. He'd beaten her at her own game, and she damn well knew it.

"Fine."

He leaned closer, his lips almost touching her ear. "If you try to play games using Rose again, I swear I'll shove your fucking game board down your throat and laugh while you choke on it. _Capisce_?"

She nodded, attempting to pull away. Too bad he wasn't through with her yet. For just a moment, he dropped the shields that he always kept in place, crumbling the brick walls that kept his sanity intact. He pulled her back to his side, staring her straight in the eye. He used no compulsion; he just let her see the horror of the madness that lurked within him.

"The same goes for Belikov. Stay away from him. If you bother or threaten either one of them again—"

"I understand. Ok? I get it." He released her, and she lurched to her feet. Her aura was pulsing with terror now. Derangement had that effect on most people.

"Oh, Natasha?" she turned, not meeting his eye. "He was never seriously considering your offer. He's been in love with his Roza since the moment he saw her."

"Did he… Did he tell you that?" He heard the tears in her voice and did the only thing he could. He made his words a silver stake, driving them straight into her heart. He had to, for Rose's sake. Natasha Ozera was a vengeful woman, and if she thought there were the slightest chance that Belikov might change his mind, she would never back down. She would destroy Rose's reputation. He wouldn't put it past Tasha to physically try to harm her. Adrian looked her straight in the eye and lied as expertly as any of the politician at Court.

"I overheard him discussing it on the phone. He didn't realize I was fluent in Russian. I think he was talking to an old friend, asking for advice."

She nodded, her bright blue eyes darting up to meet his. "Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry for what I said about Rose. I… understand now."

He watched her walk away, mentally reconstructing the walls within his head. Who would have ever thought that his lunacy would actually come in handy?


	12. A Wilting Rose

_**A/N **_I hate author notes, so I'll keep this brief. This chapter is definitely not my best work. I just got home from the hospital, having spent the day sitting by my dad's bed—problems with his appendix. I had several messages asking for an update, so I threw this together in about fifteen minutes. I'll probably revise/lengthen it sometime tomorrow, but for now, here you go. Thanks so much for all the lovely messages and reviews, both here and on tumbler. Blessings to all.

* * *

He didn't ride with the students to the airfield—he wanted to surprise Lissa at the last minute—opting instead to use one of the Town Cars provided by the resort. He almost missed the flight entirely due to a stocky, abrupt Guardian who refused to let him board the plane. Adrian promptly christened him 'Dick'—the name fit the man perfectly. He obviously had no idea who he was screwing with.

He unfolded the fax presenting it to the dhampire with a flourish. He waited while the man read it over, smirking at the flush of embarrassment that quickly covered the other man's face.

"I'm sorry, Lord Ivashkov. I didn't realize your visit had been approved by Queen Tatiana."

"Fine. Do you mind getting the hell out of my way? I'm aging here."

"Certainly. If you need anything during your stay at St. Vlad's I would be more than happy to assist you. My name is Stan—"

Adrian cut him off, bored with his brown nosing. "Save it, Dick. If I need help, I'll ask Vasilisa or Rose for it. Not some prick with an attitude." He brushed past the man, eager to find his cousin. As ridiculous as it sounded, he felt like he was taking the first steps towards improving himself. Maybe learning more about spirit would enable him to gain more control. Then he could wean himself off the booze. That would make his Aunt an extremely happy woman.

Plopping down beside Lissa, he shot her a cheeky grin, pleased with her shocked expression.

"Going my way, cousin?" He asked with a saucy wink.

The flight seemed almost too short, time passing more quickly than he would have thought possible. Lissa was an excellent traveling companion, keeping up a steady stream of pleasant, light chatter. The disappearance of Rose and the others—in addition to the discovery that they both held the same mysterious elemental power—had forged an extremely close friendship between them in a ridiculously short amount of time. That was something he desperately craved—friends. Sure, he had lots of people he hung out with, but those were simply acquaintances, nothing more. They were people who shared his bad habits and liked the fact he would always pick up the tab. This—someone who cared about his feelings and thoughts—was something entirely different. Lissa's head drooped towards his shoulder a small snore escaping from her slightly gaping mouth and he smiled with contentment. If his little dhampire were here right now, safe and sound, life would be absolutely perfect.

* * *

His Rosebud was wilting. The events in Spokane had hit her hard, leaving her a shadow of the girl she'd been before. Adrian kept his distance—he could tell by her aura that she needed time to heal. Several times he asked Lissa what had happened—he knew that Rose and Christian had both confided in her—but she refused to discuss it. Her answer was always the same—that it was Rose's story to tell, not hers.

The Ashford boy hadn't made it. According to campus gossip, he'd run back into the house to help Rose, his heroic act resulting in a broken neck. The funeral was a somber affair, and he kept himself in the background. He hadn't known the boy, having only spent a few hours in his company that night at the resort. He was there for one reason only—to support Rose. The loss of her friend was part of what haunted her; Adrian only wished he could somehow ease her pain. He contemplated visiting her dreams—heading any nightmares off at the pass—but decided against it almost immediately. It would anger her if he interfered, she prided herself on being strong. So he lurked around the school, watching and waiting, hoping that by some small miracle she would bloom again.

It killed him to see her wandering around the grounds in a daze. The elemental spark—the fire and passion—that had made her such an unforgettable person had disappeared. As much as the changes bothered him, something about them drew him in at the same time. The new, mournful Rose was just as enchanting as the old one, in a completely different way. Her almost helpless demeanor made him long to hold her close, whispering soft promises that everything would be okay. A romantic side he never knew existed grabbed hold of him, demanding he do something—anything—to let her know he was there for her. He finally settled on flowers. Dozens of them, in a vast array, to let her know she was in his thoughts. Always.

Belikov appeared to be avoiding her, and it irritated Adrian beyond belief. It was obvious she needed the man now more than ever. If anyone could bring Rose back to life, it would be her 'mentor'. His frustrations grew to the point that he could no longer contain it. He dove into the Russian's dreams, determined to figure out exactly what the problem was. That was how he discovered a portion of the events that tormented his poor little dhampire.

He walked on a floor drenched with blood, hearing footsteps and voices coming closer. Two decapitated bodies were sprawled across the ground, he had to step over them to get closer to the action. Rose sat beside the body of her fallen friend, gently rocking him. A few Guardians approached her and she jumped up, brandishing the sword before her. Spattered with blood, she looked like a Valkyrie, or a warrior princess from some ancient legend. Her eyes were fierce, her aura glowing with rage. She leaned protectively over the body, her lips pulled back in an almost feral snarl.

"Stay back," she growled. "Stay away from him."

The morons kept going, edging closer to her.

"Stay back!" Her scream was full of anger, stopping them in their tracks. All but one.

"Rose," His accented voice was soft, almost crooning. "Drop the sword."

Her hands were shaking—she looked half crazed. "Get away from us."

"Rose." Belikov spoke again, and the battle fury left her eyes as her head turned to look at him.

"It's okay," he said. "Everything's going to be okay. You can let go of the sword."

Her body quivered, still prepared for a fight that was not coming. "I can't. I can't leave him alone. I have to protect him."

"You have," said Dimitri.

The sword fell out her hands, landing with a loud clatter on the blood soaked floor. She collapsed beside it, a lost look on her beautiful face.

Belikov's arms wrapped around her, lifting her gently. He tried to pull her towards the door but she hesitated, her hands grasping at his shirt. He kept an arm around her, pushing her hair back from her face; it was a lover's gesture, he had forgotten where they were. His aura danced around her, as if it too longed to soothe her. She pressed her head against him and he continued stroking her hair, crooning to her in soft, whispered Russian. His gentle tone relaxed her, even if she didn't understand the words he spoke. Adrian did understand them, all too well. Belikov had been careful to pitch his voice so low that no one could hear it.

"It's alright, I'm here. I'll protect you, my precious one. Always."

Guardians were examining the house, their voices loud, carrying through the room.

"She did that? Both of them?"

"That sword hasn't been sharpened in years!"

Rose made a tiny pain filled sound causing Dimitri to squeeze her shoulder.

"Get her out of here, Belikov," Janine Hathaway demanded.

Dimitri pulled her closer. "Come on, Roza. It's time to go." He led her out of the house, holding her carefully, as if he were afraid she would break.

Adrian withdrew from the vision dream more confused than he'd been in the first place. He pulled a Djarum out of the pack, rolling the thin black cigarette around in his fingers, his mind racing over the scene he had witnessed. Placing it between his lips, he sat for a moment, reveling in the sweet taste of cloves against his lips. He felt strange, his mind was cloudy, almost as if he were drunk, but that wasn't the case. The small amount of vodka he'd consumed at the resort had been nowhere near enough to affect him, and he hadn't touched a drop since then. Lighting the cigarette he leaned back, savoring the first burning rush as he inhaled deeply. He sat in silence, watching the smoke drift up towards the ceiling, knowing that it was time to talk to Belikov. But first, perhaps, he'd have a drink or two.


	13. Love Grows where his Rosemarie Goes

**A/N **Sorry to add another irritating note, I just wanted to thank everyone for their kind words regarding my father's health. He's still in the hospital, which is why I have not been posting as many daily chapters as I normally do. Also, thanks for all the great messages and reviews—I wish I could respond to each one, but I've been at the hospital all day and am trying to get the next chapter up. In case you were unaware, Chapter 12—A Wilting Rose has been updated, fleshing it out a bit. The new portions were added to the airplane trip as well as to the very end. I'll also be doing a few minor edits to other existing chapters, small things I noticed when I down loaded this story and printed it out to review.

Blessings!

* * *

Adrian was having a crisis of conscious. Part of him—the scheming, decidedly wicked devil that he chose to be on a daily basis—wanted to take advantage of the fact Belikov was avoiding Rose. If he pushed hard enough, he knew he could use his persuasiveness to win her over, especially now that she was so in need of comfort. The other side of him, the one that was a complete stranger—it had only made itself known to him since he'd met Rose—cringed at the idea. Right now the only person she needed—wanted—had to be Belikov.

The Russian had seen the horrors that she'd faced in Spokane. He'd witnessed the fact that his presence alone had broken through her primal fury, giving her the comfort she'd so desperately needed. So why was he ignoring her? Why was he letting her suffer in her self imposed depression?

A thought shot through his mind, one that was almost too disgusting to contemplate. Had Belikov decided to accept Natasha Ozera's offer in spite of her hateful actions? Was he distancing himself from Rose because he thought it would lessen the pain she'd feel when he left her?

Adrian was in motion—on his feet and out the door without consciously being aware of his actions. His mind was focused on the anger he felt growing deep inside himself. Anger was his enemy, it always had been. It weakened the walls within him, letting tiny bits of insanity lose in his mind. At that moment, however, he didn't care. He had to confront his nemesis—it couldn't be put off any longer.

He charmed the woman that manned the desk in the lobby of the Guardian's dormitory, obtaining directions to Belikov's quarters. The man answered after the first knock, stunned to see who stood before him.

"Lord Ivashkov?"

"What the _fuck _have you done?" Adrian's voice sounded different, even to his own ears. It was filled with fury.

Belikov narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Did you accept Natasha's offer?"

Belikov arched a dark eyebrow, frowning. "That is none of your business."

"The hell it isn't! She called Rose a blood whore! She practically admitted to using compulsion to get what she wants—then she tried to get me to join in her nasty little games."

He stared at the taller man, slowly losing his grip on reality. He stepped closer to the Russian, invading the other man's personal space. In that moment, he didn't care that Belikov stood several inches taller, or that he was noticeably more muscular. He didn't think about the fact the man was a trained killer. He wanted answers and he wanted them _now._

"What games?"

Adrian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Pulling an engraved silver flask out of his pocket, he threw his head back, not stopping until it was empty. The vodka burned a path to his stomach, easing his anger instantly. The crazed feeling receded—unfortunately not entirely.

"Besides using compulsion to turn you into her love slave? Blackmail. She wanted to blackmail you. She planned on using Rose against you. I… convinced her it was a bad idea."

Dimitri frowned. "That explains why her strange voice mails ended so abruptly. Thank you." He studied Adrian, his expression shifting into the indifferent mask that he wore on a daily basis. "What did you do?"

"I told her to leave it alone."

"That can't be all you did."

Adrian smirked at him. "No, but that's all you need to know."

"Why?"

"Because I don't feel like telling you." Adrian pushed past him into the room, settling himself onto the spindly desk chair.

Belikov shut the door, leaning back against it. He crossed his arms across his muscular chest and glared at Adrian. "That's not what I meant and you know it. Why did you even bother? It would have been better for you if you'd gone along with her."

"Because I was feeling… generous." Adrian studied the ceiling, not wanting to meet Belikov's eyes. "Because I don't like Natasha. Hell, I don't know. Maybe because when I win the girl, I want to know it's because I put up an honest fight, for once in my life."

"I told her no, but I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself, for now."

"Why are you avoiding her? She needs you."

Belikov sighed. "Adrian, Rose is mourning her… boyfriend—"

"Bullshit. The only thing she felt for the kid was friendship. Trust me. Mason Ashford was no gallant hero rushing to rescue his lady love." Adrian paused, thinking about how to phrase his next thought. "Actually, the fact he cared for her might have been part of the reason he went back inside, but it's not the whole story. He felt guilty."

"For what? Leading them there?"

"No, because the entire time he was tied to the chair, he kept blaming Rose in his mind. In his eyes, it was all her fault, because she had rejected him. That's what drove him to set off on his little adventure."

"And you know this how?" Belikov's aura flicked with hope. Shit. He had really thought Rose had been in love with the kid.

"I was in his head, remember? You slapped the shit out of me to pull me out of his dreams."

"Again, I have to wonder why exactly you're being so… forthcoming."

Adrian considered the question for a moment, running his hands through his dark hair. "Because I want her to be happy again, and unfortunately, right now that means she needs you, not me."

He stood, preparing to leave, only to freeze in place as a strange, hazy feeling settled over him. Fuck. He recognized what was happening—whatever was about to come out of his mouth would be something all kinds of crazy. "You'll repay me for what I've done. In time, our roles will be reversed. Then it will be your turn to make a sacrifice on her behalf."

He shook his head, suddenly dizzy. Belikov reached out, grabbing his arm to steady him as he swayed on his feet. The expression on the Russian's face was one of pure worry.

"Are you alright, Ivashkov?"

"Yeah. I hate it when that happens."

"You have the gift of prophecy." Belikov released him, studying his face.

"No, I—"

"You do." His accent was suddenly much thicker as he cut Adrian off in mid-sentence. "My grandmother has it, I recognize the signs. For a minute, it seemed as if someone else had taken over your body."

Adrian smirked. The situation had gotten too strange for even his crazy ass to be comfortable with. "Whatever." He stared at the other man, it was incredibly easy to catch his gaze, since Belikov had been studying him. Thrusting his compulsion into the other man's mind, he set to work. "The only thing you're going to remember about tonight is that Natasha needs to be avoided."

He paused for a moment, considering if anything else needed to remain. "You'll also remember that Rose didn't love the Ashford boy, and that she is suffering right now because she lost a friend—that's all he was to her. You'll remember the… prophecy as well, but only when the time comes for you to fulfill it. Understand?"

"Yes." The compulsion was heavy, affecting the other man so strongly that his voice sounded sleepy.

"Go to bed, Belikov. I'll see myself out."

Without another word, Dimitri climbed into bed. Adrian opened the door, grinning as he looked over his shoulder. "Belikov—once Rose is back to normal, I stop being such a nice guy. Consider yourself warned."

With that, he left the room, making his way out of the building and into the early morning sunlight. The wind carried his off-key whistling across the silent commons area, the tune sounding suspiciously like 'Love Grows' by Edison Lighthouse.


	14. Game On

A few days later Adrian was strolling by the gym, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rose. He made this trip every day, and so far it had been a wasted effort. It looked like today would be the same.

He froze in place when the door opened, his green eyes narrowing when Belikov emerged. The man looked almost… giddy. His normal bored-with-life expression was missing. In its place was a huge, happy smile.

Adrian cursed himself, wishing he hadn't polished off two bottles of vodka earlier in the day. He would have loved to glimpse at the Russian's aura. "What the hell are you so cheerful about?"

"Hello Lord Ivashkov. How are you today?" Belikov's voice was pleasant, and he actually stopped walking, offering Adrian a courteous bow.

Adrian stared at him, shocked. "Who are you and what the fuck have you done with Guardian Belikov?"

The tall man chuckled, ducking his head down and trying to hide his smile. The sound of the door opening behind them made both men turn. Rose walked out, her face full of bliss, and she flashed them both a giant, beaming smile. She didn't stop to talk, only paused for a moment locking eyes with Dimitri. Adrian watched them beaming at each other and couldn't contain a sigh of disgust. The sound caused Rose to tear her eyes free so that she could give him an evil glare. She sauntered off with a sway to her hips that Adrian knew was intentional. No woman could possible walk that way naturally—it was too damned sexy for words.

As soon as she was out of earshot he turned back to Belikov, unable to keep the smirk off his face. "She looks better. I'm assuming you're the reason—what happened, did you get all hot and heavy in the gym?"

Dimitri blushed. "I don't know what you mean. If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Alberta."

Adrian watched him rush off, knowing he had hit the nail right on the head. He'd make sure of it tonight. With a smile like the one Belikov had been wearing, something major had happened, and he'd bet a million dollars the man would be revisiting the event tonight.

* * *

The dreams colors swirled, settling around him as he emerged into the gymnasium. He leaned against the wall, watching Belikov sigh as he reached out, taking Rose's hand. "When I saw your face…when we found you in that house…you can't imagine how I felt."

"How … how did you feel?"

"Devastated … grief-stricken. You were alive, but the way you looked … I didn't think you'd ever recover. And it tore me apart to think of that happening to you so young. You will recover—I know that now, and I'm glad. But you aren't there. Not yet. Losing someone you care about is never easy."

Rose looked at the floor, her long hair falling forward to hide her face. "It's my fault."

"Hmm?"

"Mason. Getting killed."

He knew it. All this time she'd been blaming herself for something that wasn't her fault at all. Ashford had given into his anger, making a bad decision. Now Rose was the one suffering from his poor choice. Adrian grimaced, wishing he had slapped the kid before he'd died.

"Oh, Roza. No. You made some bad decisions…you should have told others when you knew he was gone…but you can't blame yourself. You didn't kill him."

She shook her hair back, a tear spilling over and trailing down her cheek. "I might as well have. The whole reason he went there—it was my fault. We had a fight…and I told him about the Spokane thing, even though you asked me not to…"

Belikov reached out, gently wiping away the evidence of her sorrow. "You can't blame yourself for that," he told me. "You can regret your decisions and wish you'd done things differently, but in the end, Mason made his decisions too. That was what he chose to do. It was his decision in the end, no matter your original role."

Thank God the Russian knew what to say. If he'd said anything different, Rose might have been lost forever in her little world of guilt.

"I just wish I'd been able to … I don't know, do anything…" She pulled her hands away and stood up, not wanting to break down in front of him. When she spoke again, her voice was tear filled. "I should go," I said thickly. "Let me know when you want to start practice again. And thanks for … talking."

"No."

She paused, glancing back at him. "What?"

Their eyes locked and Adrian could see the light that surrounded him reaching out across the brief distance, stretching and spinning, straining to join together.

"No," Belikov repeated. "I told her no. Tasha."

Adrian slapped his hand over his mouth to contain his laughter at the expression on Rose's face. Her mouth gaped open and she looked as if someone had slapped the shit out of her.

"I … But…why? That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You could have had a baby. And she … she was, you know, into you..."

His lips twitched. "Yes, she was. Is. And that's why I had to say no. I couldn't return that…couldn't give her what she wanted. Not when…" He took a few steps toward her, their auras now flooding together in a bright sparkling glow. "Not when my heart is somewhere else."

Rose started rambling. "But you seemed so into her. And you kept going on about how young I acted."

"You act young," he said, "because you are young. But you know things, Roza. Things people older than you don't even know. That day …" Adrian watched as Rose thought about his words, the corners of her mouth lifting up sligthly—she must be remembering the kiss they'd shared against the wall. "You were right, about how I fight to stay in control. No one else has ever figured that out— and it scared me. You scare me."

No shit. It had taken him long enough to realize it. Adrian smirked, wondering if the fact he had called the man a coward had anything to do with the realization.

"Why? Don't you want anyone to know?"

He shrugged. "Whether they know that fact or not doesn't matter. What matters is that someone—that you—know me that well. When a person can see into your soul, it's hard. It forces you to be open. Vulnerable. It's much easier being with someone who's just more of a casual friend."

"Like Tasha."

"Tasha Ozera is an amazing woman. She's beautiful and she's brave. But she doesn't—"

Hah. Adrian could think of a few adjectives that described the woman a bit more accurately. Bitter. Sneaky. Conniving. Evil. Just to name a few.

"She doesn't get you." Rose finished his sentence, a small smile playing across her face.

He nodded. "I knew that. But I still wanted the relationship. I knew it would be easy and that she could take me away from you. I thought she could make me forget you."

Fucking coward. Belikov so didn't deserve Rose. Why the hell had he interfered? Right now he should be the one consoling her.

Rose nodded as if she knew what he meant. Probably thinking about Ashford. "But she couldn't."

"Yes. And, so … that's a problem."

Adrian rolled his eyes. How the fuck was that a problem? Boy sees girl. Boy likes girl. Boy fucks girl. This wasn't goddamned quantum physics.

"Because it's wrong for us to be together."

Belikov's golden aura pulsed with a dark, greyish blue, her words filled him with sadness. "Yes."

Why? Because he was her mentor? Hello—resign. Fuckwit.

"Because of the age difference."

"Yes."

Jesus. Again with the age? She was legal. Had been for two damned years. Maybe he should print up the law regarding the age of consent in Montana and shove it under Belikov's door.

"But more importantly because we're going to be Lissa's guardians and need to focus on her—not each other."

"Yes."

That didn't even deserve an answer. They were both clueless.

Rose stared at him for a minute or two then tilted her head, staring him straight in the eye. "Well, the way I see it, we aren't Lissa's guardians yet."

As soon as the words left her luscious lips, the sadness left him, replaced with a warm pink color. He loved her. So why the fuck was he acting like such a melodramatic dick?

In an instant Belikov's hands slid over her cheeks, cupping her upturned face and his lips were against hers. After an unbelievably long time he pulled back, pressing his lips against her forehead, pulling her into his body. Stepping back he ran his fingers through her hair, stroking down her cheek as he smiled at her, then he turned, heading for the door.

"I'll see you later, Roza."

"At our next practice?" She asked. "We are starting those up again, right? I mean, you still have things to teach me."

Good God—the things she said. And with complete innocence as to the innuendo her words contained.

Standing in the doorway, Belikov looked back at her and smiled. "Yes. Lots of things."

As the dream shifted the gym melted away, morphing into Belikov's bedroom. At the sound of the frantic pounding on the door, Adrian stepped back, removing himself from the scene. He had no desire to witness _that _particular incident again, he'd leave Belikov to it.

He came back to himself with a smile on his lips. His Rose was blooming again, and that signified something important. Mr. Nice Guy was officially banished. It was time to play.

Game on.


	15. Eavesdropping

It was almost noon—the middle of the night for Adrian, since Moroi ran on a nocturnal schedule. Rose had been avoiding him for weeks, and it was driving him to distraction. Instead of being out here in the sunlit cold day, he should be back in his suite with a hot toddy—aka a glass of whiskey. The only reason he was here at all was because Belikov was on patrol. If there was the slightest chance that the Russian was meeting up with Rose then Adrian was determined to be there. So he could interrupt them. He had a dozen little scenarios planned out, for each location he might catch them in. The only one he wasn't sure of was the one for the gym. It involved actually having to exercise, and that wasn't something he really wanted to attempt.

He'd concealed himself in a large clump of bushes across from her dorm. When the double doors burst open, he smiled. She shot outside, an answer to his prayers. He hadn't seen her this close in at least two days, so he drank in the sight of her. Her hair looked wonderfully messy, as if she'd just rolled out of bed. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling. All in all, she looked totally screwable.

She pulled her robe closed, walking to the side of the building. Adrian shifted within his hidey hole, determined to keep her in sight. He realized, biting back a laugh, that he had become as stalker-ish as Belikov. The tall Russian followed Rose constantly, keeping out of sight and watching her from a distance. The only time he wasn't tailing her was when he was either on duty or holed up in his room, reading one of his ridiculous western novels. Adrian had resorted to doing the same damned thing—following her, that is. He'd be damned if he ever voluntarily picked up a book that involved cowboys, horses or indians.

"Are you sleepwalking?" Well speak of the Devil.

She spun around, startled. Dimitri stood there watching her, looking amused.

"I was testing dorm security," she said. "It sucks."

A hint of a smile played over his lips, amusement lighting up his aura. "You must be freezing. Do you want my coat?"

She shook her head, stubborn as always. "I'm fine. What are you doing out here? Are you testing security too?"

"I am security. This is my watch." His amusement was reflected in his voice. They were slowly beginning to leans towards each other in that irritating way that made them seem like star crossed lovers. Adrian grimace. If they started to kiss he was going to cause the biggest ruckus imaginable. Bursting out of the bushes and shouting about a rattlesnake was extremely believable, in his opinion.

"Well, good work," Rose said. "I'm glad I was able to help test your awesome skills. I should be going now."

"Rose—" Dimitri's hand caught her arm for a moment before releasing it quickly. "What are you really doing out here?"

"I had a bad dream. I wanted some air."

"And so you just rushed out. Breaking the rules didn't even cross your mind—and neither did putting on a coat."

"Yeah," She shrugged. "That pretty much sums it up."

"Rose, Rose." He sounded exasperated. "You never change. Always jumping in without thinking."

"That's not true," Her voice was irritated. "I've changed a lot."

The amusement on his face suddenly faded, his expression growing troubled. He studied her, leaning even closer. Goddamn it. They were _so_ about to kiss.

Instead Belikov kept talking. "You're right. You have changed."

God he liked to talk a lot. Adrian grinned. If he were in the Russian's shoes, Rose would be well on her way to second base by now.

"Well, don't worry. My birthday's coming up. As soon as I'm eighteen, I'll be an adult, right? I'm sure I'll wake up that morning and be all mature and stuff."

Oh ho. A birthday. That gave a valid excuse for gift giving. Surely her ban on presents didn't include birthdays? Rose would look fabulous in a bright red sports car. He could almost see her, reclining across its hood, her tanned body glistening with oil, barely covered by the red bikini that she had worn in past spirit dreams. Of course, if he attempted to give her a car, she'd probably just turn around and use it to run him down. She had quite the temper.

Belikov smiled "Yes, I'm sure. What is it, about a month?"

"Thirty-one days," She said.

"Not that you're counting." She shrugged, and he laughed.

"I suppose you've made a birthday list too. Ten pages? Single-spaced? Ranked by order of priority?" The smile was still on his face.

Idiot. Her face immediately fell, her aura filling with misery. How did he manage to do that to her so easily?

"No," her voice was soft. So soft Adrian had to strain to hear it. "No list."

Belikov tilted his head staring at her intently. "I can't believe you don't want anything. It's going to be a boring birthday."

"It doesn't matter," She said insisted.

Adrian closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what he could tempt her with. What could he give her to make her open her eyes and see what was right in front of her? Belikov had fallen back into his old habit of keeping her at arm's length. Rose was wasting herself, longing for a man who didn't have the balls to follow through on his desires. Actions spoke louder than words, especially in a case like this—maybe he could convince her of that.

"What do you—" Belikov stopped, a look of understanding shooting across his face. He stared at her, his face full of longing, but as usual, he forced himself to be 'professional'.

God, Adrian hated the man. What was so special about—

A hand clamped over his mouth as an arm jerked him backwards. A voice spoke in his ear, so softly it couldn't even be called a whisper. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's impolite to eavesdrop?"


	16. She Walks in Beauty

A thousand thoughts raced through Adrian's head, the primary one being 'oh fuck'. He was about to be kidnapped. God, he hoped Tatiana would pay the ransom. Surely she would, he was her favorite family member. His captor pulled him up against their body and his mind froze for a moment, analyzing what he felt behind him. It was definitely a feminine figure. He hoped his captor was at least attractive. Would he be taken to a more private location so she could ravish him?

His attacker spun him around, her hand still clasped tightly over his mouth. His eyes widened in shock when he saw who stood before him. Guardian Petrov glared at him for a moment then leaned close to whisper in his ear.

"I'll move my hand, but you better not make a sound. Is that clear?"

He was tempted to lick her hand, knowing her initial reaction would be to jerk it away from his mouth. He refrained from doing it, because he had a feeling she'd smack him. Instead he simply nodded once, indicating his agreement.

Slowly she removed her hand, dragging him backwards, further away from Rose and Belikov. After several yards she stopped, her voice harsh, even though it was still a whisper.

"What the hell were you doing back there?"

Shit. He realized she'd probably been trying to catch Belikov and Rose. When he'd used his compulsion on her at the resort he had blacked out—apparently it hadn't set in properly. She still remembered her prior suspicions which meant he'd have to do it all over again. If Rose got caught, she might be sent to another school—one without a spirit user, so he'd have no legitimate reason to follow after her. He glanced around, cursing as he realized he couldn't do it here, not effectively. Belikov might have heard then moving through the underbrush—he could be coming to investigate the noise.

Grabbing her arm he stared at her, focusing his will and shoving it into her mind. "Alberta, you need to come to my room. Meet me there in… an hour." He'd need at least that long to let the last drink he'd had work its way out of his system. What he was doing now was a relatively small compulsion—he could easily do it with a buzz. To completely wipe things from her mind would take a lot more focus than he was capable of performing at the moment.

"Don't do anything about Rose until after we've had our meeting. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Her eyes looked glazed. Good, that meant it was working.

"I'll see you in an hour." He crept away, trying to be as silent as possible, wondering why in the hell he was the one who had to fix everyone else's fuck ups.

* * *

By the time a gentle knock sounded on the door, Adrian was well and truly sober. Ushering Alberta into the guest room that had become his living quarters, he guided her to the couch, smiling all the while. He'd spent the better part of the last hour drinking black coffee and trying to determine the best way to go about finding out how much the woman knew about Rose and Belikov's 'mentor-ship'.

"How have you been, Alberta? He leaned towards her, trying to catch her eye.

"Fine Lord Ivashkov. What was it you wanted to see me about?"

Well, that was abrupt. He stared more intently at the older woman, irritated that she kept flicking her eyes away from him. His hand shot out, grasping hers and—there. Got her. He sighed, glad that no more pleasant chit chat would be needed.

"How would you describe the mentor-ship between Rose and Guardian Belikov?"

Her eyes lost focus. "Very professional."

Adrian smirked at the monotone sound of her voice. God he was good at this. Apparently his compulsion had worked at the lodge. Maybe she had just been patrolling the grounds before.

"Anything else? Do you have any other feelings about it?"

"No."

"Alright then. In the future, if you have any other opinions about Rose and Belikov, I want you to immediately come tell me. Do you understand Alberta?"

"Yes Lord Ivashkov."

"You can go now." Relaxing, he reclined on the couch, pulling back his compulsion. She needed to hurry up and leave so he could have a drink. He hated sobriety with a passion, especially right after using spirit.

She was almost to the door when she spoke again—what she said shocked the hell out of him.

"They do make an adorable couple, don't they?" She smirked, winking at him.

Adrian jerked upright so quickly that he almost fell off the couch. She crossed her arms across her chest, her lips twitching.

"Compulsion doesn't work on me, Ivashkov. It never has."

Her words rendered him absolutely speechless. Shit. What the hell—

"Stop gaping at me like an idiot." She sank back down on the sofa with a heavy sigh. "I've known Rose her entire life. She's the closest thing I'll ever have to a daughter."

Alberta rested her head against the high back of the couch, closing her eyes. "She was an extremely unhappy little girl, and that didn't change as she got older, although she did learn to hide her unhappiness better. Since she's become… involved with Dimitri, that's changed." She paused for a moment, frowning. "For the most part, anyway. He's changed too. He's… come alive. He used to resemble one of the dummies we use to practice staking. I actually caught him humming the other day."

Adrian tore his eyes away from the older woman, wandering over to the small kitchenette. Grabbing a bottle and two glasses he returned to the couch, pouring them each a double shot of vodka. Alberta eyed the glass for a moment then downed it.

"Nothing's really going on between them, you know." He smiled at her, hoping his natural charisma might work, since compulsion was obviously a bust.

"Do I look like a complete fool? They're like a couple of love sick kids, always mooning over each other. When she went missing, Belikov was practically broadcasting his feelings. He confirmed everything I's suspected without saying a damned word."

"When did you realize—"

Her unladylike snort cut him off. "As soon as Rose and the Princess were returned to the Academy. Before that, Dimitri barely said two words to anyone—and he never spoke voluntarily. When we were in Kirova's office that day he jumped into a conversation that was none of his business—he was actually pretty abrupt to the headmistress, which was shocking in and of itself. If he hadn't interfered—hadn't taken up for Rose—she wouldn't be here today. I knew then that something about her… affected him."

Alberta grabbed the bottle, pouring herself another drink. "He started trading his shifts with the other Guardians so he could—what was it he said? 'Monitor her behavior in class'."

Adrian bit back a smile as Alberta made dramatic air quotations to emphasize her meaning. The woman had a quick wit.

"Rose… well she wasn't quite so easy to read. I think it took her awhile to actually realize she had feelings for him." Alberta rolled her eyes.

"So you're not going to turn them in?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "No. As long as they're discreet and keep their training sessions professional, I don't care what they do. She's almost eighteen. Hell, she's been making her own decisions for most of her life. They're good for each other. Belikov needs to realize it and do something about it, before someone else steals her away." She narrowed her eyes, studying him. "You still haven't told me what you were doing out there."

Adrian felt his cheeks flush. "I was waiting to interfere if they started to get… romantic."

Alberta set her glass down on the coffee table with a bang. "I figured it was something along those lines. This conversation never happened, Ivashkov. If you tell anyone I know about them, I'll deny it. Thanks for the drinks."

He escorted her to the door, stopping her on the threshold with a hand on her muscular arm. "I'm sorry—for what I tried to do. The compulsion."

Her lips turned up in a wry grin. "Don't worry about it. It was pretty funny, the way you tried to sweet talk me into doing what you wanted when we were at the resort. You have a remarkable talent for spreading bullshit, Lord Ivashkov."

He frowned, hurt by her words. "You offend me. I meant every word I said. You're a beautiful woman, Guardian Petrov. It's a shame you don't seem to realize it."

She stared at him, frowning slightly for a moment before bursting into an absolutely radiant smile. It knocked twenty years off her age and made her seem like a completely different person. He could see a glimpse of the girl she had once been, and it made him smile in return.

"Thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. You're not so bad yourself. She opened the door, still smiling. "Stay out of the bushes, Lord Ivashkov. I'd hate for someone to mistake you for a strigoi and stake you."

Adrian chuckled as she walked away, pleased to see her swaying her hips in a Rose-like fashion as she strolled down the hallway. It was amazing how a few kind words could brighten someone's day. He only wished that someone—like Rose—could be bothered to throw a few thoughtful words his way, every once in a while.


	17. Let Me See Inside Your Soul

He was bored. It seemed like nothing ever happened at Saint Vlad's. Rose was still avoiding him and Lissa had been too busy to spend time discussing spirit with him. Belikov and Rose had apparently had some sort of disagreement, because the man was wandering around with his aura as dismally colored as a raincloud. The most interesting thing happening was the fact that every time Alberta saw him she gave him a saucy wink. Her actions were unfortunately witnessed by several students, who in turn began to spread a quite hilarious rumor. Apparently, now most of the student body believed Adrian and Alberta had some form of May-December romance going on.

He saw Rose hurrying across the quad and called out to her, hoping she might feel like being friendly for a change. Hope springs eternal, after all.

"Why so glum, little dhampir?"

"Adrian, you are the last person I want to see right now."

Ignoring her statement, he hurried to her side, pleased just to have the chance to be near her. Knowing how she felt about smoking he made a conscious effort to exhale quickly from the corner of his mouth, blowing in the opposite direction. Of course the wind picked that exact moment to shift, the breeze carrying the smoke directly in her face. She waved her arms dramatically, coughing as if she had contracted a bad case of tuberculosis. He fought not to role his eyes at her display, knowing it would only piss her off.

"Apparently," he said. "I've hardly seen you at all since we got back. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding me."

"I am avoiding you."

That hurt. What had he done that was so offensive? Sure he might come on a little strong, but what other choice did he have? He had to get her attention somehow. Negative attention was better than no attention, in his opinion. He exhaled loudly and raked a hand through his hair, deciding it was better to stick to his party boy image than to let her see how much her words pained him.

"Look, Rose. You don't have to keep up with the hard-to-get thing. You've already got me."

"I'm really not in the mood for your so-called charm today." She glared at him, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under in a matter of seconds.

"What happened, then? You're stomping through every puddle you can find and look like you're going to punch the first person you see."

Her lips twisted up in a taunting smirk. "Why are you hanging around, then? Aren't you worried about getting hit?"

"Aw, you'd never hurt me. My face is too pretty." Finally he got a smile from her. Alright, it was almost miniscule, but he'd take whatever he could get.

"Not pretty enough to make up for the gross, carcinogenic smoke blowing in my face. How can you do that? Smoking's not allowed on campus. Abby Badica got two weeks' detention when she got caught."

"I'm above the rules, Rose. I'm neither student nor staff, merely a free spirit wandering your fair school as I will."

He wondered what she would say if he confessed to her—she was his sole reason for sticking around backwoods Montana. He never would have imagined that he would do something like this—it was basically a self-imposed exile from everything he knew and enjoyed, just so he could catch a glimpse of her walking across campus of running around the track. His ridiculous crush on the girl standing beside him was disgusting, but he just couldn't get her out of his system.

"Maybe you should go do some wandering now." Rose said.

"You want to get rid of me, you tell me what's going on."

She frowned, her face scrunching up in a completely disgusted expression. "I got assigned to Christian for my field experience."

Holy shit. He could feel the laughter welling up inside himself, and fought his best to keep it locked inside. Pairing Rose and Christian together was on par with putting a surfer and a great white shark in a wave pool together—someone was definitely not going to make it out alive. He glanced at her face again, and then burst out laughing.

"Wow. Now I understand. In light of that, you actually seem remarkably calm."

"I was supposed to have Lissa," She growled. "I can't believe they did this to me."

"Why did they do it? Is there some chance you might not be with her when you graduate?" If that was the case, he'd move heaven and earth to get her assigned as his guardian. There was no way he would let another man near her. It was bad enough he had to share her with Belikov.

"No. They just all seem to think this is going to help me train better now. Dimitri and I will still be her real guardians later."

Oh yeah, that was _so _ going to work out—not. Seriously, maybe he should have Alberta drop a few choice hints that one of them needed to be reassigned. Otherwise they' might just end up making out in a corner, completely oblivious to the fact a Strigoi was munching on Lissa. He gave Rose a sly glance. "Oh, I'm sure that'll be quite the hardship for you."

"Like I said, your commentary isn't appreciated today." Her jaw tensed, and he realized he'd better leave it alone unless he wanted to piss her off beyond belief.

"What's the problem? Christian'll be with Lissa all the time anyway."

He could tell she was considering what he'd said by the cute way she slightly tilted her head. How was it she never realized the simplest things? His mind started to feel fuzzy and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying to whatever deity might be listening. He didn't want to lose control, not now, in front of Rose. He'd been waiting for a chance to be near her. Surely, fate wouldn't be so cruel—he couldn't bear it if she witnessed him having a complete meltdown. He found himself wishing he'd imbibed more than the two measly drinks he'd slammed earlier in the day. When he opened his eyes, they immediately locked on the darkness that surrounded her. Fuck. Here we go. Next stop loony tunes land.

"Have I mentioned your aura to you?"

"I don't know. Yeah, once. You said it was dark or something. Why?"

"Hard to explain. Maybe it's nothing." He took a deep drag on his cigarette, hoping the strong taste of tobacco and cloves would flush the haze away. No such luck. "Auras are strange. They ebb and flow and change colors and brightness. Some are vivid, some are pale. Every once in a while, someone's will settle and burn with such a pure color that you can…" His head dropped back and his eyes locked on the stars above. The way they sparkled reminded him of the mischievous glint that Rose sometimes got in her eye. "You can instantly grasp what it means. It's like seeing into their soul."

"But you haven't figured mine out, huh?" She asked. "Or what any of these colors mean?"

He shrugged. "I'm figuring it out. You talk to enough people, get a feel for what they're like and then start to see the same kinds of people with the same kinds of colors…. After a while, the colors start to mean something."

"What's mine look like right now?"

He glanced over at her. It was too faint to see clearly. "Eh, I can't quite get a fix on it today."

"I knew it. You've been drinking."

"Just enough to chase the chill away. I can guess what your aura's like, though. It's usually like the others, sort of those swirling colors—it's just kind of edged in darkness. Like you've always got a shadow following you." His voice sounded… creepy. He bit his lip, concentrating on his breathing, trying to strengthen his mental shields. Trying to remain sane, for just a little longer.

"That's so cheerful," I said. "You ever think about motivational speaking?" She bumped her shoulder against his and just like that, the haze lifted. Only Rose could drive it away so easily, with the brush of her arm against him.

"Don't worry, little dhampir. You might be surrounded by clouds, but you'll always be like sunshine to me." And she was—she lit up the world, keeping his internal darkness at bay.

He ignored the way she rolled her eyes at what had been a totally heartfelt compliment. Dropping his cigarette, he carefully ground it out. He could feel his happy go lucky mask slipping. Her last comment had pushed him past his threshold for heartbreak.

"Gotta go. See you later." He bowed deeply, heading towards his suite. Why couldn't she see he was serious? That he really wanted to get to know her, her thoughts and feelings. Sure she had a great body and a beautiful face, but through his dream visions he'd caught faint glimpses of the wonderful, selfless woman that she hid deep inside herself. All he wanted was a fucking chance. It's not like Belikov and she were actually dating—they barely even spoke to each other.

"You just littered!" Her voice was indignant. For a moment he was tempted to ignore her, maybe then she'd feel the tiniest iota of the pain he felt every time she avoided him. In the end, he couldn't do it. He couldn't just walk away and leave her waiting for a response.

"Above the rules, Rose," he called back. "Above the rules."


	18. I May Be Crazy

The afternoon passed in a blur after he left Rose. Depression flooded him, and there was only one way to relieve it. He stopped off at his room to collect a couple of bottles, then wandered through the woods, contemplating his situation.

His recent actions weren't healthy—from a mental standpoint—and he knew it. The periods of depression and the temporary losses of sanity were becoming more frequent, because he'd cut back his alcohol intake drastically. He knew it was hurting him, but he couldn't bring himself to spend his days in the drunken stupor that protected his mind. Why? Because of Rose. She was his latest addiction, and it was one that was more dangerous than all his other bad habits combined.

If anyone asked why he'd cut back, his answer would have been to tell them that he wanted to be able to access spirit at a moment's notice. So he could view auras and visit dreams. So he could help Lissa come to grips with their element—an element that no one really understood. In truth, he knew the real reason he'd cut back was because Rose didn't approve of his so-called normal behavior. Deep down, he thought that part of the reason that she avoided him was because of his well-deserved bad reputation. He didn't blame her—he knew he'd spent the majority of his life being a total fuck up. Why would a girl like Rose want to bother with a man who's only goal in life was to be drunk so he wouldn't go insane?

What hurt him so badly was that she wouldn't even be friends with him. Right now, he'd settle for that—friendship. The chance to hang out with her, to laugh with her. But she refused to even give him that small measure of happiness.

He brought the bottle up to his lips, only to realized he'd already drained it. Cursing, he hurled the bottle into the surrounding trees, pleased to hear it shattering a minute later.

"Was that really necessary?"

He spun, irritated to find Belikov standing behind him, a disapproving expression on his face. Biting back his initial response of 'go fuck yourself', he glared at the man for a moment before speaking.

"You're off duty, right? Shouldn't you be off somewhere, stalking Rose?"

"I do not _stalk _Rose."

"Fine. I'll rephrase it. Shouldn't you be off somewhere following after Rose with like a puppy dog , with a sad expression on your face?"

Belikov sighed. "Lord Ivashkov—"

"Do you realize how much I detest you? You have everything I want within reach. All you'd have to do would be come off your goddamned pedestal and grab hold of it. I can't even get her to _talk _to me. She treats me like I've got the plague, and it's all because you told her to stay away from me." Adrian closed his eyes, trying to control his temper. He hadn't realized how much he blamed Belikov for his current problems. Rose had at least hung out with him that night at the resort. But that was, of course, before her darling Dimitri expressed his displeasure at her spending time with him.

"I have absolutely no control over who Rose chooses to spend time with. It's ridiculous for you to suggest otherwise." He crossed his arms across his chest, his expression giving away absolutely nothing. "She is my student, nothing more."

"Keep telling yourself that. Maybe eventually you'll believe it." Adrian pulled out his second bottle, breaking the seal and opening it. He smirked, offering it to the Russian. When the man didn't take the bottle, he laughed. "Too good to drink with me? Or are you afraid I'll find out you can't handle your liquor?"

Belikov arched an eyebrow, eying the bottle. "Really? You're trying to taunt me into drinking with you?"

"Is it working? Come on, truce for a drink or two. You're girlfriend broke my heart today. Again."

Dimitri's lips twitched, as if he were trying not to smile. "I'll have to decline. I'm participating in the novice's field training this afternoon."

"Sure you are. Good excuse." Adrian took a long pull from the bottle, his mind finally starting to feel numb. Ah. Relief.

"I'll make you a deal. If you'll stop littering and return to your room, I'll have a drink with you when I'm off duty. Provided you're actually sober when I get there."

Adrian chewed on his lower lip, thinking about the offer. One drink could easily become two, then three. A drunk Dimitri Belikov might just be amusing. It would at least alleviate the damned ever present boredom. Maybe he could arrange for Rose to see her precious Russian as somewhat less than perfect. Nodding, he held out his hand to shake on the deal. Now he had something to look forward to.

* * *

He tried. Really, really tried. Unfortunately, it seemed like things rarely went according to plan for him. One minute, he'd been perfectly fine, planning out all the questions he would ask Belikov once he got him drunk. The next thing he knew, melancholia hit him like a Louisville Slugger.

He felt disconnected, completely isolated from the world outside the walls of his suite. As the minutes passed, it got progressively worse. He began wondering if life was just an illusion. He worried he might already be dead, and Rose was an angel that he'd followed into the afterlife. He felt as though the truth of the universe was almost within his grasp, if he could only connect the dots and analyze the answers they gave. The only way to really be sure of reality and fantasy would be to remove himself from the picture altogether. When that thought crossed his mind he grabbed the nearest bottle—Tequila, this time—and didn't stop drinking until he'd drained it. The thoughts and voices were still chattering inside his head, so he moved on to the next bottle, and then yet another. After that, Adrian was lost, for a brief period of time, in the dark. He didn't care, he welcomed the blessed silence it brought—it quieted the dementia.

When he regained himself, he was standing below Rose's dorm room window, singing—more like screaming, to be honest—at the top of his lungs. He didn't remember how he got there, but he decided it didn't really matter. He was already there and in the middle of a song, so what the hell—he might as well put on a good show.

"You may be right… I may be crazy… But I just may the lunatic you're looking for!"

"Lord Ivashkov?"

What the fuck? Couldn't this jackass see he was in the middle of serenading the woman of his dreams? He ignored the interloper, shoving the man away.

"I told you dirty jokes until you smiled . You were lonely for a man … I said take me as I am Cause you might enjoy my madness for a while!"

"LORD IVASHKOV!"

"WHAT?" Adrian turned, glaring at the idiot who refused to let him finish his concert in peace. Hell. It was Guardian Dick. "What is so goddamned important that you couldn't wait for me to finish my song?"

"You can't stand out here and—"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want. I'm Adrian Ivashkov. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish singing to Rose."

"Why would Rose be in the Guardian's dormitory?" Guardian Dick looked extremely perplexed, his cheeks already turning red with anger.

Adrian sighed in frustration. "Are you high? That," he said, pointing to the window in question, "is Rosemarie's room."

Dick stared at him. "No it isn't. That's Guardian Belikov's room."

Adrian stared at the man for a minute, then shrugged. "Whatever, she's probably in there anyway." He turned back to the window, ready to sing again. Damn it, he'd lost his place because of Dick's incessant rambling. Screw it, he'd just start wherever. " Now think of all the times you wanted Belikov to satisfy you— well I might be as crazy as you say… I'm crazy yes it's true, Rose it's all because of you—"

A large hand covered his mouth, an arm wrapping around his chest in an iron grip. What the hell? Again with the kidnapping?

"Guardian Alto, what's going on here?" Fuck—why the hell was the Russian always spoiling his fun?

Guardian Alto smirked. "He thinks he's serenading Rose. If you ask me, they're a match made in heaven. He reminds me of her—they're both a couple of screw ups."

"I suggest you watch what you say Alto." Adrian laughed, but it sounded muffled because of Dimitri's hand.

"Why? He won't remember any of this tomorrow."

Belikov's voice dropped, sounding threatening. "He may not remember, but _I _will. If you'll excuse us, I'll take Lord Ivashkov back to his room."

He moved his hand, tugging on Adrian's arm. The handsome young Moroi shot another death glare at the man who had single handedly ruined his romantic gesture."Night Guardian Dick, hope you enjoyed the show."

Belikov chuckled quietly. "My God, he's right. Sometimes you act exactly like Rose."

"That's cause we're supposed to be together." Adrian stumbled, then fell down flat on the grass. "My legs won't work. I think I'm paralyzed."

Sighing, Belikov threw him over his shoulder. "Please try not to vomit on me."

The tall man made his way towards the guest lodging in silence. After a few minutes, the rocking movement of Dimitri's long strides lulled an extremely drunk Adrian Ivashkov to sleep.


	19. Channeling Belikov

He woke up with a sour taste in his mouth and a massive headache. What the hell had he done last night? The last thing he remembered clearly was waiting for Belikov to show up. Apparently, the Russian had backed out on their agreement. Typical.

Rolling over, he reached for the cigarettes he kept on his nightstand. They were missing, a bottle of water and two Tylenol occupying the space where his pack and ashtray normally lay waiting. Propped up beside them, leaning against the lamp was a note.

Dry swallowing the pills—the thought of drinking water right now made his stomach roll dangerously—he grabbed the note, frowning when he saw the signature. Apparently Belikov hadn't been the one to welsh on their deal.

_Ivashkov—_

_Headmistress Kirova insisted upon your immediate eviction from campus due to your impromptu concert last night. I convinced her your behavior was due to side effects from the spirit element as opposed to being alcohol induced. After much discussion, I earned you a reprieve. Try not to let it happen again._

_D. Belikov_

_P.S. Next time you feel the need to serenade Rose with Billy Joel tunes in the middle of the night, I suggest you make sure you have the right building. I would further recommend you refrain from doing so in front of Guardian Alto—known to you, apparently, as Guardian 'Dick'._

_DB_

The events of the prior evening came back to him in a rush. He could feel an embarrassed flush spreading across his naturally pale cheeks as he remembered the lyrics he'd been singing—the altered version that involved Rose, Belikov and an extremely fucked up Ivashkov. Hell. If Rose heard about it, she'd be beyond pissed. She'd be absolutely homicidal. God, he hoped Belikov would keep quiet about it. He glanced over at the clock, realizing he was running behind—not that he had a schedule to keep, but he'd been trying to get himself into a routine of sorts. He headed for the shower, hoping he'd 'accidentally' run into Rose while it was still early in the day. If she'd heard about last night, he'd tell her that the entire event had been an elaborate hoax perpetrated by someone who wanted to sully the Ivashkov name. Not that she'd believe it.

An hour later he was making a lap around the campus when the sound of a distraught young man attracted his attention. The boy sounded almost as if he were about to have a breakdown. He altered his course, his curiosity roused.

"Okay, okay. Whatever. Please, stop it," he said. The voice wavered. "You're scaring her."

"I'd be scared too, if my life was in your hands." Shit. That was Rose. What the hell was she up to now?

He tossed down his cigarette, picking up the pace as they came into sight. Rose had a pretty Moroi girl—he thought her name was something like Claudia or Camilla—pinned up against the wall, an arm pressing down on her throat. The girls eyes were wide and terrified, and Adrian didn't blame her. The look on Rose's face was… terrifying.

The darkness in her aura almost completely overshadowed the colors that constantly flickered against it, but he didn't need to see her aura to know what she was feeling. She was wearing the same expression he had seen in Belikov's head when the Russian had dreamed of what had awaited him in Spokane. She was in huntress mode, her face full of raw fury. To make matters worse, a small crowd was gathering around them. He needed to defuse the situation, before Rose got her gorgeous ass expelled for harming a Moroi.

"This is fascinating," He drawled, trying to sound calm and collected. "But I think you've made your point."

"I don't know," She responded. The tone of her voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It sounded surprisingly sweet, but lurking underneath the light, friendly modulation was a hard edge of intense menace. "I still don't think Ryan gets it."

"For God's sake, Rose! I get it," cried the dhampir—apparently Ryan was his name. "Just let her go."

Adrian moved quickly, positioning himself as close to the scared girl as possible. His intention had been to insert himself between Rose and her… victim, but the two girls were pressed so closely together that he was forced to change tactics. He leaned close, attempting to lock gazes with his little dhampire, trying to maintain his normal smirk so Rose wouldn't catch on—if she realized what he was doing, she'd get even angrier. Channeling Belikov, he tried to make his face match the blank expression that the other man wore, not wanting to give anything away.

"Yes, little dhampir. Let her go. You're done here." He spoke softly, his words and mind trying to bend her will, to make it match his own. He hated doing it, but it was for her own good.

She hesitated, and he knew she was fighting the compulsion. Damn it, why did everything about her have to be so difficult?

"Let her go," he repeated.

Her eyes widened, slightly glassy as she stared at him, locked in the depths of his dark green gaze. He had her. She moved her arm and stepped away. The girl made a small noise as she darted away, hiding behind the dhampir boy who must be playing her Guardian. Her large eyes were full of tears, and she buried her face in his back, stunned by her narrow escape. The boy looked flabbergasted.

Adrian straightened up and waved his hand in their general direction. "I'd get out of here—before you really annoy Rose."

Slowly they began to back away, staring at his Rosebud as if she were a rabid dog. The expressions on their faces pissed him off. He knew, all too well, what it was like to be lost inside your own darkness. The last thing Rose needed when she regained her wits was to have them all staring at her as if she were a circus freak. He slid his arm around her shoulders, steering her towards the library. He took a moment to drop his head down and smell the clean, sweet scent of her hair. God, it felt so right, having his arm around her. Her warm body was cuddled up against his side as he protected her from—

She shoved him away, jerking out from under his arm, startling him out of his romantic daydream.

"You just used compulsion on me!" She growled. "You made me let her go."

"Someone needed to. You looked like you were seconds away from strangling her." His arm was twitching slightly, as if it had a mind of its own. All he wanted to do was pull her close and kiss the shadows from her eyes. But she wouldn't let him.

"I wasn't. And I wouldn't have." She slammed through the door to the library, her voice furious. "You had no right to do that to me. No right at all."

"And you had no right to tackle some poor girl in the hall just to soothe your own hurt pride." He frowned, irritated by her attitude. Was it too much to expect her to express a little gratitude? He'd just saved her ass, after all.

"Ryan had no right to say those things."

"I don't even know what 'those things' are, but unless I've misjudged your age, you're too old to be throwing a tantrum over idle gossip." The words were out before he could stop himself. Shit. He was starting to sound like Belikov. He pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally cursing himself.

"Throwing a—" She broke off as they reached the table where Lissa was sitting. God, there was going to be trouble, judging by the murderous expression on Lissa's normally happy face.

Rose slid into the chair opposite Lissa, her anger apparently dissolving the instant she saw how upset her friend was.

"Hey."

Lissa looked at Rose, sighing before returning her attention to the book spread open in front of her. "I wondered when you'd turn up," she said. "Did you get suspended?"

Lissa's aura was all over the place. Her words sounded perfectly normal, but that was far from the way she was feeling. She was pissed off. Adrian wondered what exactly it was that he'd wandered smack dab in the middle of.

"Not this time," Rose answered. "Just got stuck with community service."

Lissa arched a pale eyebrow, not responding. The tension in the air felt as thick as a heavy fog. If he was going to be stuck dealing with raging teenage hormones, he might be forced to turn to illegal substances to even out the moodswings.

Rose sighed, a pained expression on her face. "Okay, talk to me, Liss. I know you're mad."

Adrian glanced between the girls, wondering if he should just leave them to it. Unfortunately, the pull of Rose was too much of a temptation for him to turn tail and run. "I feel like I'm missing something here."

"Oh, great," Rose rolled her eyes, smirking. "You went and busted up my fight and didn't even know what it was about."

"Fight?" asked Lissa, confusion joining her anger.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Rose nodded to the other girl. "Go ahead, tell him."

"Rose got tested earlier and refused to protect Christian." She shook her head, exasperated, and glared at Rose. "I can't believe you're seriously still mad enough to do something like that to him. It's childish."

Rose's heavy sigh spoke volumes. She was frustrated and tired of the accusations. Now that she had calmed down, it was easier for him to see her natural aura—the darkness had receded, somewhat. "I didn't do it on purpose! I just sat through a whole hearing on this crap and told them the same thing."

"Then what happened?" she demanded. "Why did you do it?"

Rose sat staring into space for so long that Adrian reached towards her, planning on giving her a gentle shake. She snapped out of her daze before he touched her.

"I froze. It's stupid. I'd been so cocky about being able to take out anyone, and then Stan …" She shrugged. "I don't know. I just couldn't react. It… it's really embarrassing. And him of all people."

Lissa studied her face, as if she thought it was a lie "I wish I could read your mind," she mused.

"Come on," Rose said. "You know me. Do you really think I'd do this? Abandon Christian and make myself look stupid on purpose just to get back at my teachers?"

"No," she said finally. "You'd probably do it in a way where you wouldn't get caught."

"Dimitri said the same thing," She grumbled. "I'm glad everyone has so much faith in me."

"We do," she countered. "That's why all of this is so weird."

It was weird. Rose didn't seem like the type who'd flake out over a fake strigoi. Hell, she'd killed two real ones a few weeks before. He narrowed his eyes, studying the air around her. She was hiding something, but he couldn't tell what. There was a faint hint of fear dancing around her that troubled him.

"Even I make mistakes. I know it's hard to believe—kind of surprises me myself—but I guess it has to happen. It's probably some kind of karmic way to balance out the universe. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair to have one person so full of awesomeness." She tried to smile, and failed miserably.

He watched them, trying to take in both auras at once. What was he missing? There was something… off, he just couldn't grasp what it was.

"My loyal bodyguard returns," Christian's voice pulled him out of his speculations, The boy glanced at Lissa. "Are you done yet?"

"Done with what?" she asked.

He inclined his head toward Rose. "Giving her a hard time about how she threw me into the deadly clutches of Alto."

Lissa blushed. "We were just talking about it, that's all."

The tension was still lingering, and he simply couldn't stand it any longer. It pressed against him, filling him with unease, bringing back the dark thoughts that his drinking had vanquished last night. He had to get rid of it. Immediately.

Yawning, he slouched back in the chair. "Actually, I think I've figured it all out. This was a scam, wasn't it? A scam to scare me off since I'm always talking about you being my guardian. You thought if you pretended to be a bad guardian, I wouldn't want you. Well, it's not going to work, so there's no point in risking anyone else's life."

If she only realized how serious he was. If she only realized… how much he cared.


	20. Politics and Power

For a brief moment their eyes locked, and he was thrilled to see her eyes… soften. He thought, in that moment, that she'd glimpsed the hidden truth in his words. That she _finally_ realized what he felt. To him, she was so much more than just another conquest. From the first moment he saw her, something had sparked to life deep within the depths of his being. A desire to be a better man. Then, just as quickly as the moment of connection had begun, it vanished. She looked away from him, and he knew he'd been mistaken. It had been nothing—she'd felt… nothing.

Her tongue snaked out, wetting her lips, and she looked nervous. That in itself was worrying—what could make the indestructible Rose Hathaway nervous?

"So, um … there's something you guys should know," she said.

They all watched her, waiting. Everyone in the room, even the Castile kid, realized something big was up.

"What's wrong?" asked Lissa.

"Well, it turns out that Victor Dashkov was never found guilty of what he did to us. He's just been locked up. But they're finally going to have an official trial—in another week or so."

Adrian's eyes flicked to Lissa. Her mouth dropped open, and her aura filled with fear. Understandable, since the man had kidnapped and tortured her in an attempt to bend her to his will. Her hands fisted so tightly the knuckles turned white. Her boyfriend reached over, laying his hand atop hers in an attempt to calm her, but she didn't seem to notice or even receive comfort from the gesture.

"But… but…" Lissa took a deep, gulping breath. "How could he not be guilty already? Everyone knows…. They all saw…."

"It's the law. They supposedly have to give him a fighting chance." Rose looked absolutely miserable to be the bearer of this news.

Her eyes widened. "So…wait… are you saying there's a chance they might not find him guilty?"

Christian slammed his fist against the table. "This is bullshit."

His reaction garnered attention from a few people. Not something they really needed, considering what they were discussing. Especially since Rose had already had a… breakdown, just a short while before. Having grown up at court, he recognized something they had overlooked. He felt the need to point out the obvious to them. "This is politics," said Adrian. "People in power never have to play by the same rules."

"But he nearly killed Rose and Christian!" cried Lissa. "And he kidnapped me! How can there be any question?" Her aura was all over the place. Fright. Fear. Sorrow. Anger. Outrage. Confusion. Helplessness. Then the flickering, changing emotions slowed, before being replaced with calm.

His eyes shot back to Rose's aura, and he noticed a steady, rapidly increasing rage filling her. Well, that was interesting. Had Rose somehow eased Lissa's panic through the bond? "It's a formality, I'm sure. When all the evidence is in, there probably isn't going to be much of a debate." He offered.

"That's the thing," Rose said bitterly. "They're not going to have all the evidence. We aren't allowed to go."

"What?" exclaimed Christian. "Then who's testifying?"

"The other guardians who were there. We apparently can't be trusted to keep the whole thing quiet. The queen doesn't want the world to know that one of her precious royals might have done something wrong."

She was partially right. That was the way his Aunt would normally view the situation. But more than that, she wouldn't want to expose Lissa to the horror of reliving the attack. His darling Aunt was good at keeping her feelings under wraps, but no one could hide their aura. Tatiana had strong feelings about the Dragomir princess, he'd just never been able to figure out why.

"But we're the reason he's on trial." Lissa's voice had a pleading tone to it, as if she were begging Rose to fix the situation.

Christian stood up, his eyes flicking around as if he were expecting someone to jump out and attack them from behind a bookshelf. "I'm going to go take care of this right now."

Really? What exactly was an Ozera going to do? He was barely tolerated, considered a disgrace because of the choices his parents had made. Not to mention the fact his aunt was a sociopath—in Adrian's opinion. "Sure. I bet going in there and kicking down the door will change their minds. Take Rose with you, and you guys'll make a really good impression."

"Yeah?" asked Christian, glaring at the older man, "You have a better idea?"

Lissa's bit her lower lip, looking as if she might panic again. "If Victor was free, would he come after us again?"

Um, duh? Adrian thought to himself. The man had probably spent the entire time he was incarcerated plotting and planning. He'd find a way to get to Lissa, even if they kept her guarded under lock and key 24/7.

"If he gets loose again, he won't stay that way for long," Rose stated, her voice full of fire and determination. "I'll make sure of it."

"Careful there," He felt his lips quirk upwards in a smirk, and fought to keep his expression steady. "Even you couldn't get away with a royal assassination."

Rose shot him a glare that would have made lesser men tremble, and looked on the verge of telling him to go fuck himself. Luckily, Eddie's voice caught her attention.

"Rose."

Something about the way he said her name warned her. In an instant, her head shot up and she shot to her feet, positioning herself in the background, like a proper guardian. Adrian took advantage of the break in conversation to study the Castile boy. He'd been hanging around Rose a lot lately, and he wondered if there were yet _another _suitor, competing for his little dhampire. Studying the kid, he felt himself relax. He had no romantic feelings towards her in the slightest. It was more… familial, as if she were a sister. Probably due to what they'd gone through in Spokane.

The conversation was apparently over, for now. Rose stayed in Guardian mode throughout the rest of the evening. He tried to catch her eye several times, but she refused to look his way. It was so damned frustrating. Never before had he felt this… awkward. This unsure. With other girls, the words and actions to win them had all come naturally. Not this time—Rose was certainly a challenge.

A bell sounded, followed by a recorded announcement, warning the students that curfew was approaching. Adrian fought the urge to roll his eyes. Seriously? Did anyone really pay attention to something as ridiculous as a curfew?

When Lissa and Christian began to gather their things, he bit his lip to contain his amusement. Alright then, that answered his question. Apparently, these two actually planned on obeying the night time prohibition on outside activities.

How in the hell had he gotten caught up with this group?

Didn't they ever feel the urge to break the chains of authority and have a little fun? He was longing to cut lose, to be in a group of people having a good time—he needed a party. Making the expected pleasant goodbyes, he headed for his room. If the others were going to play by the rules, he'd be in for another night of boredom. Damn it. Maybe he'd see if Alberta felt like having a drink, at least she seemed to enjoy his company.


	21. Dream a Little Dream of Me

He was almost to the Guardian dormitories when he heard someone call his name.

"Ivashkov—"

He paused turning his head as two young Moroi caught up to him. They looked vaguely familiar— one was tall, with bronze-colored hair, rather handsome, despite the arrogant look on his face. The other was shorter and downright chubby, wearing an idiotic grin that spread from ear to ear.

"Yes?" Adrian stared at them, impatient.

The taller boy—he thought the kid was a Zeklos—smiled. "You going to see your girlfriend?"

Adrian pulled out a cigarette, pondering the question. Obviously this was one of the morons who'd been spreading the rumors about his 'illicit' hookup with Petrov. "Nah, you're mom's busy tonight."

They hadn't been expecting that. The fat kid made a sound like he was trying not to laugh, earning him a glare from his friend. Zeklos narrowed his eyes, taking a step towards Adrian in a decidedly threatening manner.

"You're real funny Ivashkov, but my mom's not really your type. She's too classy, you prefer dried up old bitches like Petrov or blood whores like Hathaway."

His anger rose in a sudden hot wash of red. He'd heard about how these two assholes had tormented Rose. The kid talked big, but Adrian was willing to bet he was a coward at heart. He straightened, towering over the younger Moroi by several inches.

"You've got a big mouth." He cocked his head, studying his opponent. "Maybe it's time someone did something about it."

He wasn't a fighter, but had been blessed with a muscular build. Funny how his body was in such good shape, even though he abused it on a daily basis. Zeklos's face changed, as he realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew. Still he tried to save face.

"What're you gonna do about it?"

Adrian smirked. "You're acting as if you don't think I'll hit you. Are you really that stupid?" He realized that was the kid's game. Pick on people who can't—or won't fight back. That's it exactly, isn't it? You harass Rose because she'll get expelled if she stands up for herself. You piss me off, thinking I won't react for fear of getting the boot from Kirova."

"Nah, I just think you're too much of a pussy to do anything."

"You're wrong on both counts. I'm an Ivashkov, which means I'm above the rules." With that, he drew back, slamming his fist into the boy's chin, knocking him off his feet.

Zeklos stared up at him, stunned. "You can't.. You can't do that!"

"Looks like I just did." He switched his attention to the plump boy who was staring at him, amazement written all over his chubby little face. "You planning to fuck with me too?"

"Lord Ivashkov? Is there a problem?" A thickly accented voice called out of the darkness. He glanced at the newcomer. It was… Emil—a guardian from Romania that he'd met at the resort.

"This young man was making disparaging remarks about Guardian Petrov and Rose Hathaway. He needed a lesson on how to treat women." The red hot anger was slowly receding, his breathing slowing down to a bearable level. Damn, Rose's temper must be rubbing off on him. He hadn't been in a fist fight in… well, ever.

"Really?" The guardian's eyebrows rose as he tried to hide a smile. "Perhaps the headmistress would be interested in hearing about this. Unless, of course, you would care to rescind your comments, Mr. Zeklos?"

The boy glared at them, getting to his feet. "Fine. Whatever. I—"

Adrian cut him off. "As amusing as I'm sure your apology will be, I'm bored now."

Nodding to Emil, he brushed past the two boys, altering his destination. He was no longer in the mood for company. After defending her honor, the only thing he wanted right now was to see Rose. And since it was after curfew, the only way he could do that would be to visit her in her dreams.

* * *

Before pulling her in, he constructed the backdrop, pulling every last detail of the setting he had in mind from one of his favorite memories. He wanted to share something beautiful with her, hoping it would make her happy, if only for a little while. When he felt that everything was perfect, he reached out, pulling her into the dream. As usual, he hid himself from view—he loved watching Rose when she didn't realize he was observing her. She looked so… free. When no one was around she let the tough girl mask fall away, revealing the beautiful, careful teenager she might have been if fate had dealt her a different hand, and she had led a simpler life.

She stood in the middle of the garden he had crafted, the hot summer sun shining down, bringing out dark auburn highlights in her hair. The air was heavy and humid, dozens of different scents vying for attention. Flowers of every color bloomed around her, and bees and butterflies danced lazily through the air, traveling from blossom to blossom.

"Oh no," She groaned, looking down at herself.

He'd dressed her in snug fitting jeans and a halter top, not to mention her items of protection—her nazar and chotki—strangely they always appeared in the dreams, even though he never visualized them.

"Where are you?" She called, her voice filled with irritation. "I know you're here."

Smiling to himself, he stepped out from behind an apple tree, it's thick white and pink flowers brushing his hair as he ducked underneath a low hanging bough. He'd dressed himself casually for this meeting, wanting her to see the Adrian that hid underneath the fancy, expensive clothes—this was the Adrian he'd always wanted to be. A man who wore jeans and T-shirts every instead of the designer clothes his familial status demanded.

"I told you to stay out of my dreams," she said, putting her hands on my hips.

He shot her a lazy smile. "But how else are we supposed to talk? You didn't seem very friendly earlier."

"Maybe if you didn't use compulsion on people, you'd have more friends." She stuck her lower lip out, pouting. He wondered if she knew how luscious it made her look. God, he wanted to kiss her.

"I had to save you from yourself. Your aura was like a storm cloud."

"Okay, for once, can we please not talk about auras and my impending doom?"

He really wanted to talk about what he'd sensed in the library—how somehow the moods between Rose and Lissa shifted and flowed, like a current—but he let it go. "Okay. We can talk about other things."

Like the fact you're wasting yourself—pining over a man who doesn't care enough to claim you as his own, he thought.

"But I don't want to talk at all! I want to sleep."

"You are sleeping." Adrian smiled and walked over to study the trumpet vine that was winding up a post. It had orange and yellow blooms, and even in the dream, it's sweet pollen attracted tiny little ants. He gently ran his fingers over one of the flowers' edges. "This was my grandmother's garden."

He wanted her to know something of his past. This place had been a childhood haven for him. Here he could be himself, without having to worry about how to sit or what fork to use. Here he could be a little boy, running and climbing, or playing hide and go seek with his nana. It was in this garden that he'd first learned to appreciate beauty, developing an artist eye for color and symmetry.

"Great," Rose said, leaning against the apple tree. "Now I get to hear your family history."

Adrian tensed. Couldn't she bend just a little? What the hell?

"Hey she was a cool lady." He was pleased that his voice sounded normal, not giving away his sadness.

"I'm sure she was. Can I go yet?"

His kept his eyes on the vine's blossoms, trying to compose himself. "You shouldn't knock Moroi family trees. You don't know anything about your father. For all you know, we could be related."

"Would that mean you'd leave me alone?"

Strolling back over to her, he switched subjects. If she didn't want to hear about his nana it was her loss. "Nah, don't worry. I think we come from different trees. Isn't your dad some Turkish guy anyway?" His eyes locked on the top she had on. It looked… wrong. The color hadn't turned out quite as he'd imagined it. Ivory wasn't flattering to her skin tone, it gave it an almost jaundiced look. He frowned slightly, considering other options.

"Yeah, according to my— Hey, are you staring at my chest?" She glared at him, crossing her arms over her breasts. Did she always have to think the absolute fucking worst about him? For Christ's sake, he wasn't some horny teenager who couldn't control his hormones.

"I'm staring at your shirt," he said. "The color is all wrong." Reaching out, he touched the strap. Like ink spreading across paper, the ivory fabric turned the same shade of rich indigo as the vine's blossoms. He narrowed his eyes like an expert artist studying his work.

"How'd you do that?" She asked. The amazement in her voice made him smile.

"It's my dream. Hmm. You're not a blue person. Well, at least not in the color sense. Let's try this." The blue lit up into a brilliant crimson. "Yes, that's it. Red's your color. Red like a rose, like a sweet, sweet Rose."

"Oh man," She said, taking a step backwards. "I didn't know you could kick into crazy mode even in dreams."

If she only knew. Jesus. He stepped back and threw his arms out. "I'm always crazy around you, Rose. Here, I'm going to write an impromptu poem for you." He tipped his head back and shouted to the sky. "Rose is in red—But never in blue. Sharp as a thorn—Fights like one too."

He let his arms fall to his sides and looked at her, waiting for her next quip. Whatever it was, he knew it would be sarcastic.

"How can a thorn fight?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Art doesn't have to make sense, little dhampir. Besides, I'm supposed to be crazy, right?"

"Not the craziest I've ever seen."

Huh. There was actually someone more insane than he was? He'd really like to meet the poor s.o.b. if that was the case. Maybe they could have a drink and swap stories. "Well," he said, pacing over to study some hydrangeas, "I'll work on that."

"Adrian … how do you know if you're crazy or not?"

He froze for a moment before turning to face her, struggling to keep a smile on his face. He thought about answering with a joke, but her face was filled with worry. His smile faded, and he turned unusually serious.

"Do you think you're crazy?" he asked.

"I don't know," She looked down at the ground, shuffling her bare feet against the grass. "I've been … seeing things."

Things like the crazy visions he had from time to time? "People who are crazy rarely question whether they're crazy," he said, hoping to soothe her.

She sighed, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. He felt himself falling more in love with her every time their eyes met, and it scared him. Was he destined to always love her from afar?

"That doesn't really help me," she said.

He walked back over to her, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. The feeling of her soft skin against his palm made his breath hitch in his throat and his heart beat faster. He rushed his answer, hoping she hadn't heard his sudden intake of breath. "I don't think you're crazy, Rose. I think you've been through a lot, though."

She frowned. "What's that mean?"

"It means I don't think you're crazy."

"Thanks. That clears things up. You know, these dreams are really starting to bug me."

"Lissa doesn't mind them," he said. Too bad it wasn't Lissa he wanted to share them with. In these dreams, he could take Rose anywhere. They could do anything imaginable. He could giver her anything her heart desired—well, almost anything. What she most wanted, he couldn't bring himself to include in their dream scape.

Belikov.

He refused to include an image of the other man in the dream, because as soon as she saw the Russian, she'd forget that Adrian Ivashkov existed. He had to deal with that rejection on a daily basis, he'd be damned if he'd experience here.

"You visit hers too? Do you seriously have no boundaries?"

"Nah, hers are instructional. She wants to learn how to do this."

"Great. So I'm just the lucky one who gets to put up with your sexual harassment."

His face fell, and this time he couldn't hide it. He bit down on his lip, staring at the bright blue sky. "I really wish you wouldn't act like I'm evil incarnate."

"Sorry. I just haven't had much reason to believe you can do anything useful."

He winced. Surely she didn't realize how hurtful her words were? She couldn't be _that_ thoughtless, could she? For a moment he contemplated telling her he'd been useful enough to find her in Spokane. Useful enough to get Tasha to leave lover boy alone. The more he thought about her words, the angrier he got, and he spoke without thinking.

"Right. As opposed to your cradle-robbing mentor. I don't really see you making much progress with him."

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him hatefully. "Leave Dimitri out of this."

"I will when you stop acting like he's perfect. Correct me if I'm wrong, but he's one of the people who hid the trial from you, right?" He shot back. She acted like the man were some sort of divine being. Despite the fact he was constantly hurting her. Leading her on with soft looks and sweet words, then pushing her away.

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "That's not important right now. Besides, he had his reasons."

"Yeah, which apparently didn't involve being open with you or fighting to get you there. Whereas me…" He shrugged. "I could get you into the trial." If you'd just act pleasant, for a change, he thought. He wasn't expecting her to declare her undying devotion to him, but she could at least treat him like a human being with fucking feelings.

"You?" She asked with a harsh laugh. "How are you going to pull that off? Have a smoke break with the judge? Use compulsion on the queen and half the royals at court?"

"You shouldn't be so quick to slam people who can help you. Just wait." He placed a light kiss on her forehead, thrilled at the way the feeling it made him come alive, ignoring how she struggled to get away from him. "But for now, go get some rest."

He released her, watching as she slowly faced into nothingness, the garden following after her a moment later. He stood, analyzing the emotions racing through him, and realized he was well and truly screwed. He was deeply, desperately in love with Rose Hathaway, and she hated his guts.

Fuck it. He needed a drink.


	22. Masks

The next day he left Saint Vlads, without letting anyone know he was departing. After seeing Rose last night, he'd realized something—and it hit him like a ton of bricks. His taunting remarks to Rose had sparked something in his brain, and when he awoke, the knowledge was just… there.

The reason Belikov was walking around depressed was because Rose wanted to go to the trial, and he couldn't provide it—the queen had forbidden the students from attending. Her Russian 'god' was failing her, showing her that he was just a mortal man, and it was killing him inside. For once, Adrian might just have a shot. If he could do this, she might realize he was an okay guy and maybe decide to be his friend. He'd worry about the rest—making her fall in love with him—later.

The weather in Pennsylvania was horrid, he was soaked as soon as he exited the plane. He wasn't surprised to see several Guardians waiting for him on the tarmac, he'd had the foresight to call ahead, informing Priscilla Voda of his visit, swearing her to silence so he could 'surprise' his Aunt. Nodding at them, he set off, heading through the Court without paying any attention to his surroundings. He'd spent a good portion of his life here, the beautiful, buildings were old news to him.

The lead Guardian stepped up beside him, handing him a note. Priscilla had arranged for his Aunt to be in her private sitting room—he'd find her there. He shoved the note in his pocket, running his hands through his hair, making it appear even messier than usual. God, he hoped this would work.

He opened the door as quietly as possible, motioning for his escort to wait outside as he snuck into the Queen's private sitting room. It was possibly the least formal room in the entire court—the polar opposite of the parlor in which she received formal guests. This room was comfortable, the furniture slightly worn, with brightly colored afghans thrown across their backs. No one would ever imagine that the Queen of the Vampire world was a knitter. It was one of her most closely guarded secrets.

Scattered around the room, on every available surface, were framed photographs, chronicling one boys life. Adrian's. He was the apple of his Great Aunts eye, to everyone's amazement. They'd be more amazed to realize he was closer to her than he was to his own parents. Hell, he'd certainly spent more time with her growing up. They'd never had time for him.

Careful not to make a sound, he crept towards the oversized recliner. His great aunt was so intent on her knitting that she didn't notice a thing. When he reached the chair he bent down, kissing her cheek and laughing as she flinched in surprise.

"Adrian! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

He grinned, genuinely happy to see her. "I wanted to surprise you. Have you missed me?"

"Terribly. Please tell me you have cigarettes." She smiled up at him, cupping his cheek with one hand.

"Of course. I even remembered to bring you a few packs, to keep you happy while I'm away." He offered her a cigarette, lighting in for her as he settled down on the floor beside her chair.

She exhaled, making a happy sound. "You're a good boy, no matter what anyone says." Smirking, she studied him. "You look… different. Why is that?"

He froze at the tone in her voice. She sounded suspicious. Surely she hadn't caught on to his real reason for staying at Saint Vlad's? "I have no idea what you mean, Auntie. Perhaps it's the fact I haven't had a drink in at least four hours?"

She made a dismissive sound. He smiled, steering the subject away from the dangerous waters. For the next hour she filled him in on the gossip around court. When they reached the topic of his life at the school, she gave him the opening he'd been waiting for.

"How is Vasilisa? Are the two of you making much progress with studying?"

"Some. She's come off the medication, but it's still affecting her magic. Right now it's a waiting game." He fidgeted with his hair. "Speaking of Lissa—"

"Vasilisa," she corrected him.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. She was very distraught to learn that she wouldn't be allowed to come to court for Dashkov's trial."

Tatiana arched an eyebrow. "Really."

"Yep. It sent her into a panic. I'm really worried it might cause a setback, you know, make her depressed. Then she'd have to go back on the pills."

"Adrian—"

"I know you have your reasons for keeping her away, but I think she needs closure." His words came out in a rush, and he laced them with the tiniest hint of compulsion. "They all do, every one of the students involved."

She sighed, resting her head against the back of the chair. "I realize that, but—"

She broke off as the door opened, Priscilla looking at them apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but it's time for the council meeting."

"I'll be along in a minute. Leave us alone so I can say goodbye." She turned away from the woman, her eyes locking on Adrian's. Her intensity made him nervous. "I'll consider what you've said. You might be right."

He grinned. "Stranger things have happened."

He stood, helping her to her feet, relaxing into the comfort of her familiar embrace as she hugged him tightly. God, he'd missed being hugged. Missed physical contact with another human being.

"Adrian," she whispered in his ear, "whatever you've started with the Hathaway girl, end it. Now."

He flinched. "There's nothing going on. We're not even friends. She hates me."

Tatiana pulled back, an outraged look on her face. "Don't be ridiculous. You're much to lovable for anyone to hate." Her eyes softened as she met his gaze, perhaps reading the pain in his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart. Don't do it. Don't fall in love with her."

He bit his lip, looking away. Too late, he thought. As if she read his mind, she released him, her eyes narrowing.

"I mean it Adrian. Don't push me on this. Rose Hathaway is not the girl for you. Friendship is one thing, but anything else… I won't tolerate it."

She kissed his cheek, and he watched her as she walked towards the door. With each step she rebuilt herself, transforming from the elderly aunt he loved into the arrogant, icy Queen of the Moroi.

He stood in silence, contemplating the fact that, perhaps everyone wore masks, hiding their true souls from the world. Some were just better at the disguise than others.


	23. Playing Hard to Get

He returned to the Academy that evening, already suffering from major Rose withdrawal. To make matters worse, when he tracked down his so called 'friends', no one had even noticed he'd been gone. He moped all the way to his suite, irritated that not even Lissa had cared enough to check up on him. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel. He was acting as foolishly as Rose. They were both pining over people who didn't seem to care. Sure, Belikov's aura reflected that he loved her—so did his dreams, for that matter—but it must be some screwed up, twisted kind of love, the way he treated her. If Rose loved him the way she did the Russian—well he sure as hell would never push her away. He'd move heaven and earth to make her happy—if she were his girlfriend.

He spent the next couple of days trying his damnedest to show no interest in Rose. That meant no flirting, no suggestive looks, and no dream walking. It was killing him, but he was determined to play hard to get. When he saw her, he was polite, but not overly friendly. He treated her almost as if she were a complete stranger.

He cursed, pouring himself a drink. Rose. Always, no matter what he was doing or thinking, his mind went back to her. Watching T.V.? Something would amuse him and he'd wonder if Rose would find it funny. Walking the grounds? He'd see a dark haired girl in the distance and wonder if it was her. It was getting ridiculous.

He downed the drink in a single gulp, then set off to find the object of his obsession.

He found them in one of the dorm lounges, and froze in the doorway as he took in the absurdity of the situation. Lissa and Christian were sprawled out on one of the couches watching a movie, while Rose and Eddie stood guard. This was wrong on so many levels. He felt ashamed for all the times he'd taken the Guardians for granted. Their lives really were hellish. They were treated like automatons. The Moroi didn't care about their feelings, or their wishes. The only thing that mattered to the 'ruling class' was that the dhampirs would die for them. They were little more than cannon fodder.

If he were honest, what bothered him even more was the fact that Rose was destined to spend the rest of her life like this—standing against a wall for hours on end, ignored and overlooked, while Lissa lived the good life. Where was the justice in that? Rose deserved to have some enjoyment in life too. Lissa didn't even stop to consider what her so-called best friend was giving up in order to protect her. Just the thought of what Rose faced made him feel sick.

Rose noticed him standing in the doorway, so he forced himself into action. He slipped into the darkened room, winking at her as he slid into the armchair that was closest to her. He could tell she was itching to ask him something, so he pointedly ignored her, feigning an intense interest in the movie.

"Are you sober?" She asked when the movie ended.

"Sober enough. What have you guys been up to?" He was proud of himself. He was getting better at this casual indifference act.

Rose shot him a questioning look, raising her eyebrows. He hoped that meant all his work wasn't in vain. She seemed bothered by the fact he was almost ignoring her—beyond one or two quick glances, he had barely even looked at her.

They filled him in on what had happened, recapping some encounter they'd had with Stan—he still thought of the man as Dick—and the girls made a big fuss over how brave Eddie had been.

"Nice work," said Adrian. "Looks like you got a battle scar too." He pointed to the side of Eddie's face where three swollen, painful looking red marks red stood out against his tanned skin.

Eddie lightly touched his cheek. "I can barely feel it."

Lissa leaned forward and studied him. "You got that protecting me."

"I got that trying to pass my field experience," he teased. "Don't worry about it."

The brightening of Lissa's aura caught his attention. It was as if a bright, white light encompassed her normal glow, pulsing with the beat of her heart. She reached out and touched Eddie's face, and the marks vanished.

"Son of a bitch," breathed Adrian. "You weren't kidding about that." He peered at Eddie's cheek. "Not a goddamned trace of it." Holy hell, that was the coolest thing ever. It was a miracle.

Lissa had stood up and now sank back to the couch. She leaned her head back against it and closed her eyes. "I did it. I can still do it."

"Of course you can," said Adrian dismissively. "Now you have to show me how to do it."

She opened her eyes. "It's not that easy."

"Oh, I see," he said in an exaggerated tone. "You grill me like crazy about how to see auras and walk in dreams, but now you won't reveal your trade secrets." Seriously? After all the patience he'd shown her, walking her through the steps, trying to help her—now she was pulling this shit?

"It's not a 'won't,'" she argued. "It's a 'can't.'"

"Well, cousin, try." Maybe he could learn by feeling her power flowing through him. He raked his nails across his hand, drawing blood.

"Jesus Christ!" Rose shrieked. "Are you insane?"

He shot her a look, irritated at her choice of words. Once again, spouting off whatever came into her head, not caring who she hurt. His eyes were still on her when Lissa reached out took his hand, healing the broken skin. He was still watching Rose, so he witnessed the change in her firsthand. As Lissa's power had rushed through him, the dark cloud around rose had swollen double—no triple, and her expression turned… glum. It troubled him. Something about the timing—

Lissa's voice broke into his thoughts, and he answered her questions, temporarily forgetting about Rose and her strange darkness. They began comparing the way the spirit had felt on each end, the giver's and the receiver's. getting lost in an intense debate.

Christian stood up, looking bored. "Come on, Rose. If I wanted to listen to this, I'd be back in class. I'm hungry."

Lissa glanced up. "Dinner's not for another hour and a half."

"Feeder," he said. "I haven't had mine today." He planted a kiss on Lissa's cheek and then left, with Rose trailing along beside him. Adrian felt a twinge of sadness after she left, but shrugged it off. Something sixth sense told him he needed to master the power of healing—the feeling was so strong, he didn't dare ignore it.

He was preparing to leave when Lissa's aura warned him something was up. Happy to nervous—it switched in an instant.

"You like her, don't you?" She stared at him, as if his answer were of the utmost importance.

He smirked at her. "I like a lot of people, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

"You know who—Rose. I could faintly see your aura when you watched her."

He sighed, rolling his neck to relieve the sudden tension he felt there. "It doesn't matter."

Lissa grabbed his hand. Of course it does. She just needs time. She's still upset about—"

"Look Cousin, I appreciate your concern." He cut her off, not wanting to hear excuses. Her words filled him with a bleak sense of despair—all the hope he'd felt earlier when Rose seemed upset by his actions dissolved, unable to stand the weight of his depression. Lissa could think Rose was still mourning Ashford, but he knew the truth. As things stood, there was a much bigger obstacle between he and Rose than her dead friend. It was 6'7, weighing in at around 200 pounds and spoke with a Russian accent. "However, I am, despite popular opinion, a realist. Rose is not interested in me. I'm not her type."

"Yes you are! That's just it, if Rose wasn't still upset, you'd be just her type." Lissa squeezed his hand. "Just give it time. OK? Promise me you won't give up."

He rolled his eyes, agreeing, just to end the conversation. If Lissa only knew what he did, she'd be mortified about their little chat. Had he been in a truly snarky mood, he would have pointed out the hilarious fact that when it came right down to it, at twenty-one, he was entirely too young for Rose—three of four years, at least.

"She has to do community service tomorrow—after church. She has to help Father Andrew. If you were to show up and offer to help her…" She trailed off, a sly little smile on her pretty face.

"You might just have something there, Cousin." He smiled. Assisting Rose with her punishment might just impress her.


	24. Checkmate!

Only for Rose would he get up at such an ungodly hour. He always felt like a mindless zombie if he didn't get a full eight hours of sleep—he probably looked like one too. It couldn't have been more than three hours since he'd passed out on the bed. Thank God he had the foresight to set his alarm _before _he'd started drinking. Of course, he'd hit the snooze button about twenty seven times, so now he was running late.

Walking towards the church, he spotted Lissa and Christian coming out the door, surrounded by a steady stream of people—all of them eager to get on with their day off, now that their duty to God having been fulfilled for the week.

When the place had cleared out, he approached the open door, pausing right outside when he heard voices coming from within. He cursed when he realized that Rose wasn't alone. Belikov apparently had the same damned idea as Lissa.

"What are you doing here?" Rose asked.

"Thought you might need some help. I hear the priest wants to do a lot of housecleaning."

"Yeah, but you're not the one being punished here. And this is your day off too. We—well, everyone else—spent the whole week battling it out, but you guys were the ones picking the fights the whole time."

"What else would I do today?"

Adrian could think of a couple things he wished the Russian would do. Like find someone his own damn age, or better yet, play in traffic. He stalked off, furious that once again, his plans were ruined. Convincing Tatiana that Rose and Lissa needed to go to Court was beginning to look like the only way he'd be able to get on his little dhampir's good side.

Shit. It was time to make a phone call. Squaring his shoulders, he returned to his room, ready to beg, if need be, in order to make his Rosebud happy.

Tatiana could be a stubborn old cow, but in the end, she caved. The fact he told her Lissa's powers were coming back might have had something to do with it, but that was only a small part of what changed her mind. The queen had a history of being unable to deny him when he really, really wanted something. All it took was the slightest bit of pleading, and she agreed.

He, Adrian Ivashkov, had succeeded where Dimitri Belikov had failed. He would be able to give Rose something she wanted. Checkmate! The thought of how happy the news would make her washed away the frustration he'd experienced upon hearing Belikov's accented voice from inside the church. Smiling to himself he lit a cigarette, sinking down on the couch to daydream about tomorrow, and how grateful Rose would be when she received her summons.

* * *

He was walking towards the private jets when Belikov called out to him. Sighing in frustration, he stared at the other man, wondering what the hell he wanted.

"I should have known it was you—how did you do it?"

Dimitri's aura was full of anger, laced lightly with sadness. Adrian smiled, knowing the reason. Rose was going to Court, and it wasn't Belikov who'd secured her passage. He'd failed her, and it was eating away at him.

"I asked." He smirked.

The tall man glared down at him, then walked away, shaking his head. Whatever—he didn't have time for melodramatic Russians today. He wanted to get on board and get a drink in his hand. All morning he'd felt the heavy weight of spirit pressing against him, and he needed to lubricate himself to keep the crazies at bay.

He'd just gotten his drink when Rose boarded the plane. "Little dhampir! About time you got here."

The look on her face was… priceless. She was shocked to see him, not to mention outraged. She brushed past him, ignoring him as she claimed the seat next to Eddie. He frowned, wondering if now would be an opportune time to mention the role he'd played in this little endeavor. No, he would let her find out on her own. That way, it wouldn't seem as if he were bragging.

He claimed the seat in front of Rose, turning around from time to time attempting to chat with her. It wasn't so much that he was trying to flirt—he was still planning on playing hard to get—it was because he had to keep his mind busy. He could sense that if he didn't keep up a running commentary, he'd start spouting insane things and freak everyone out.

"We're going to Court," He smiled at her. "Aren't you excited about it?"

She closed her eyes, frowning as she rubbed her temples. "About which one? The royal one or the legal one?"

"The royal one. Did you bring a dress?" God, he wanted to see her in a dress again. Like that red one she'd worn at the resort.

"Nobody told me to." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, a pained expression on her face.

"So … that's a 'no.'" He caught Belikov glaring at him, and fought back the urge to stick out his tongue. Or flip him the bird.

"Yes."

He tore his attention away from the Russian, confused. "Yes? I thought you meant no."

She opened one eye and glared. "I did mean no, and you know it. No, I did not bring a dress."

"We'll get you one," he said loftily. A red one. No—he didn't want other men staring at his Rosebud. Red would attract too much attention. Maybe black, like the one she'd worn in Belikov's dream.

"You're going to take me shopping? I'm going to go out on a limb and guess they won't consider you a reliable chaperone."

"Shopping? As if. There are tailors that live there. We'll get you something custom-made." She deserved the best, after all. He was practically bouncing with excitement. He couldn't wait to show her around Court. There were so many things to see.

"We're not staying that long. And do I really need a dress for what we're doing there?"

"No," he smiled at her, "I'd just kind of like to see you in one."

She sighed and leaned her head against the window. He watched her, noticing how tense she looked. His eyes flicked to the energy that surrounded her, and he winced. The blackness was… moving. Rolling like a thundercloud across a stormy sky. Like an impending warning of doom—

He shook his head. Talk, he needed to talk more, to dispel the ideas that were pounding into his brain. "Something black. Satin, I think… maybe with lace trim. Do you like lace? Some women think it itches."

"Adrian."

"You could get a nice velvet trim too, though. That wouldn't itch."

"Adrian."

"And then a slit up the side to show off what great legs you have. It could go nearly to the hip and have this cute little bow—"

"Adrian!" She shrieked. "Will you shut the hell up for five seconds?"

He stared over his shoulder at her, stunned by her outburst. What the hell? Kneeling on his seat, he leaned over the back, studying her expression. Her face was twisted, as if she were in pain. Belikov was on his feet in a flash, heading up the aisle with a dangerous look on his face. Adrian could almost swear the man had grown… bigger, bristling as soon as he heard Rose cry out.

Alberta—who had strangely enough chosen the seat across the aisle from him—shot up in her seat. "Rose," she exclaimed. "What's going on?"

"I have the worst fucking headache in the world, and he won't shut up." Rubbing her forehead, she winced. "God, why won't it go away?"

Christians voice drifted through the plane. "She hasn't eaten today. She was really hungry earlier."

Alberta turned to one of the flight attendants. "Can you get her something to eat? And find a painkiller?"

Belikov glared at him one final time, then switched his attention to Rose. The instant he looked down at her, the fierce look faded, replaced with a look of tenderness. Alberta bit her lip, trying not to smile at the sudden change. Catching Adrian's eye, she winked.

"Where's it at?" Dimitri asked her. "The pain?" He ducked his head down, his whole body leaning towards her. For a moment, Adrian thought the Russian was about to scoop her up in his arms. Alberta apparently had the same thought, because she shifted, 'accidentally' bumping him. That brief movement appeared to remind him that they were on a plane full of passengers—he caught himself before he did something stupid.

"It's a headache…I'm sure it'll go away…" She pointed to the center of my forehead. "It's like something pushing on my skull. And there's pain kind of behind my eyes. I keep feeling like…well, it's like I've got something in my eye. I think I'm seeing a shadow or something. Then I blink and it's gone."

"Ah," said Alberta. "That's a migraine symptom—having vision problems. It's called an aura. People sometimes get it before the headache sets in."

"An aura?" She asked, glanced up at Adrian.

"Not that kind," he said, a small smile turning up his lips. "Same name. Like Court and court. Migraine auras are images and light you see when a migraine's coming on. They have nothing to do with the auras around people I see. But I tell you… " he flicked his eyes back to the air around her. Good God, it was bigger than ever. So much dark. Too much. "The aura I can see … the one around you … wow."

"Black?"

"And then some. It's obvious even after all the drinks I've had. Never seen anything like it."

The flight attendant handed her a pitifully small snack, which she scarfed down almost immediately. Adrian watched as she propped a pillow up against the window and closed her eyes with a sigh.

He shot a pointed look at Lissa—she seemed oblivious to the fact that her friend was suffering, happily whispering away with Christian. Fishing an ice cube out of his glass, he hurled it at her, landing a direct hit in the center of her forehead. Her hand flew to her head, her expression shocked as she stared at him in disbelief. He glared at her, jerking his head in Rose's direction. Shame flared through her aura as she realized what he wanted her to do. Good, he thought, she should feel bad. He shouldn't have to remind Lissa to heal the girl who would gladly lay her life on the line for her friend. He shifted in the chair again, hanging over the seat, watching intently.

She made her way over to Rose, gently rubbing her arm. "Rose?"

Opening her eyes, she peered at Lissa, flinching slightly.

"You're still in pain?" Lissa asked, watching her.

"Yeah, I—oh no." She murmured. "Don't do it. Don't waste it on me."

"It's easy," she said. "It hardly fazes me."

"Yeah, but the more you use it… the more it hurts you in the long run. Even if it's easy now."

"I'll worry about that later. Here…"

She clasped Rose's hand between hers and closed her eyes.

He watched Lissa's aura flare with bright white light, instantly concerned. It did nothing. The darkness around Rose seemed to draw even closer to her body than it had been seconds before. What the hell was up with that?

Lissa's eyelids fluttered open. "Wh—what happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," Rose whispered. "The headache's still going strong."

"But I…" Lissa looked flabbergasted. "I had it. I felt the magic. It worked."

"I don't know, Liss. It's okay, really. You haven't been off the meds that long, you know."

"Yeah, but I healed Eddie the other day without any problems. And Adrian," she added.

"Those were scrapes," Rose said. "This is a five-alarm migraine we're talking about. Maybe you've got to build back up."

Lissa bit her lower lip. "You don't think the pills permanently hurt my magic, do you?"

"Nah," he interjected, head tilted to the side. "You lit up like a supernova when you were summoning it. You had magic. I just don't think it had any effect on her."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Maybe she's got something you can't heal."

"A headache?" Rose asked in disbelief.

God, he hoped it was nothing serious. What if the darkness were a warning—an omen or portent of some internal ailment? He narrowed his eyes, concentrating. No—everything showed that she was perfectly healthy, as far as her aura was concerned. He shrugged. "What do I look like, a doctor? I don't know. Just telling you what I saw."

Rose sighed and placed a hand on her forehead. "Well, I appreciate the help, Liss, and I appreciate your annoying commentary, Adrian. But I think sleep might be the best thing for now. Maybe it's stress or something. Probably can't heal that."

"Maybe," Lissa said, sounding slightly offended.

"It's okay," she soothingly. "You're just getting your stride back. Once you're up to full power, I'll go crack a rib or something so we can test it."

Lissa groaned. "The horrible part is that I don't think you're joking." She paused, staring intently at Rose for a minute before shaking her head and releasing her hand. "Sleep well."

Lissa returned to her seat, and Adrian turned around, peeking back at Rose between the seats. She took a minute to fluff and repositioned the pillow, stretching her long legs out across the seats. Within minutes, he could tell she was asleep.

Smiling, he waited ten minutes, and then focused himself, entering her dream. Shielding himself from her mind, he sank down on a familiar desk chair, watching the scene that Belikov so often dreamed—only this time, he let the dream play all the way through.

He was thrilled to realize that he'd been wrong—they hadn't consummated their relationship. The thought of Belikov claiming her in a physical way had caused him to drink so much on several occasions that he blacked out. His relief turned to fury as the vision progressed. Damn Victor Dashkov in a million different ways! He ground his teeth together in absolute frustration. Not because of the torture he'd inflicted on Lissa—although that was horrible. No, he cursed the man for one reason, and one reason alone. If it hadn't been for his fucking lust charm, Rose would be Adrian's right now. Belikov never would have acted on his attraction to Rose, at least not until she had graduated and was no longer his student. The man had ridiculously high moral standards. That stupid spell had broken his barriers and ignited something that should have been left dormant. Sure, they still would have had feelings for each other, but he firmly believed that neither would have made the first move. Rose was too proud, and Belikov was too… honorable.

Lissa was… feeding from Rose in the dream when it began to blur and grow hazy around him. It was probably a good thing, too, because the sight was almost too much for him to handle. The thought of biting down on Rose… his fangs penetrating her skin while his body—

He came back to consciousness with a jerk as someone roughly shook his shoulders. He stared up into an angry Russian face, wondering what the problem was.

"What?" He asked, his voice still sounding husky, his mind still half filled with the image of Rose.

Belikov narrowed his eyes, his voice a fierce whisper. "You were moaning her name in your sleep. Loudly."

A noise from across the aisle drew Adrian's attention away from threat that loomed above him. Alberta looked as though she were having some sort of seizure. He realized she was trying not to laugh at the situation. Shooting her a dirty look, he flicked his eyes back to the angry Russian in front of him.

"Being a wee bit obvious aren't you?" He whispered.

His words had the desired effect, and he watched as the man rebuilt himself. He smirked as Alberta—she'd finally managed to compose herself—joined them.

"I am only looking out for the best interest of my _student_, Lord Ivashkov. Something like this could spark rather nasty rumors." Belikov shot him another fierce look, then returned to his seat, pausing to check on Rose.

Alberta leaned down, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Do you have a death wish, Ivashkov?"

"It's not like I can control my dreams." He mumbled.

"True. If I may make a suggestion?" Her lips twitched. "Don't fall asleep around Dimitri." They both turned to look at the Russian, who still looked as if he were contemplating murder. "For more reasons than one."

Rolling his eyes, he grinned at her, watching as she reclaimed her seat, shooting him another one of her saucy winks in the process. Damn, this trip was going to be fun.


	25. Was That a Thank You?

He refused to stay with his parents. He just couldn't stand the thought of dealing with his father's condescending attitude or his mother's icy aloofness. Neither approved of his lifestyle, or of his recent decision to relocate to Saint Vlad's. He settled into a guest suite and was about to pour himself a drink when the summons came via a note wielding Guardian.

Looking over the message, he sighed. And so the payback begins.

She was waiting for him in her formal parlor, looking as regal and professional as ever. He bent, brushing her pale cheek with a kiss, stepping back to give her a boyish grin.

"I haven't been here an hour, and already you start with the demands?"

She smiled at him, fondly. "Of course. I did you a favor, now it's your turn. Have a seat, and do try to behave. We're expecting a guest."

He rolled his eyes, exasperated. What now? He slouched down on the loveseat, irritated at being put on show. He had things to do—like track down Rose.

A guardian opened the door, and he sat a little straighter. Well, this was getting interesting. He snagged a glass from a passing servant, wondering where this might be headed.

"Princess Vasilisa Dragomir."

Tatiana nodded in acknowledgment. "Welcome, Vasilisa. Please sit down."

Lissa sat down in a chair near him, fidgeting slightly. Her aura was all over the place. Huh, she was scared of his Aunt. A Moroi servant came by and offered her tea or coffee, but Lissa declined. Tatiana continued to sip from her teacup, scrutinizing Lissa from head to toe. Adrian was willing to bet she was pissed off that the princess had opted to wear pants. Priscilla Voda broke the awkward silence.

"Remember what I said about her?" Priscilla asked cheerfully. "She was very impressive at our state dinner in Idaho. Settled a huge spat over Moroi fighting with guardians. She even managed to calm Adrian's father down."

A frosty smile crossed Tatiana's cold features. "That is impressive. Half the time, I still feel like Nathan is twelve years old."

"Me too," Adrian piped in, drinking from a wine glass. He certainly acts like it, he thought, always picking fights—especially with his only son.

Tatiana ignored him and again focused on Lissa.

"Everyone seems impressed with you, really. I hear nothing but good things about you, in spite of your past transgressions … which I'm given to understand weren't entirely without their reasons." Lissa's look of surprise actually made the queen laugh.

There wasn't much warmth or humor in the laugh, though. "Yes, yes … I know all about your powers, and of course I know what happened with Victor. Adrian's been filling me in about spirit as well. It's so strange. Tell me … can you…" She glanced to a nearby table. A flowerpot sat on it, dark green shoots sticking through the soil. It was some kind of bulb-based plant that someone was growing indoors. Like its outside counterparts, it was waiting for spring.

Lissa hesitated. Adrian knew she wasn't used to displaying her powers so… openly. But, Tatiana was watching expectantly. After only a few moments more, Lissa leaned over and touched the shoots. The stems shot up through the dirt, growing taller—almost a foot high. Huge pods formed along the sides as it grew, bursting open to reveal fragrant white flowers. Easter lilies.

Lissa withdrew her hand. Wonder showed on Tatiana's face, and she muttered "amazing" under her breath in Romanian. A moment later, she composed herself, her face once again blasé.

"Hmm. Interesting," she said.

Adrian snorted, ignoring the icy look she threw his way. Interesting? Art was interesting, or literature. She'd just witnessed a minor miracle, and the best she could come up with was interesting?

"It could be very useful," said Priscilla, as if to divert the Queens attention from his minor slip up. "Vasilisa and Adrian can't be the only two out there with it. If we could find others, so much could be learned. The healing itself is a gift, let alone anything else they can conjure. Just think what we could do with it."

"Begging your pardon, Princess Voda…I'm not sure we should be so eager to use my—or others'—healing powers as much as you might want to."

"Why not?" asked Tatiana. "From what I understand, you can heal almost anything."

"I can…" said Lissa slowly. "And I want to. I wish I could help everybody, but I can't. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll definitely help some people. But I know we'd run into other people like Victor, who want to abuse it. And after a while … I mean, how do you choose? Who gets to live? Part of life is that…well, some people have to die. My powers aren't a prescription you can get filled as needed, and honestly, I'm afraid they would only be used for, uh, certain kinds of people. Just like the guardians are."

Adrian drained his glass, instantly alert. She was swimming into dangerous waters. A slight tension built in the room. What Lissa had insinuated was rarely ever mentioned in public.

"What are you talking about?" asked Tatiana with narrowed eyes.

Lissa's voice faltered. "Everyone knows that there's a certain, um, method to how guardians are distributed. Only the elite get them. Royals. Rich people. People in power."

A chill fell over the room, as Tatiana's mouth settled into a straight line. She didn't speak for several moments, and Adrian's mind began racing, trying to find a way to smooth over Lissa's little fuck up.

"You don't think our royals deserve special protection?" she asked finally. "You don't think you do—the last of the Dragomirs?"

"I think keeping our leaders safe is important, yeah. But I also think we need to stop sometimes and look at what we're doing. It could be time to reconsider the way we've always done things."

God, she sounded so… mature. So intelligent. Adrian's eyes flicked around the room, and he could tell Priscilla felt the same way. His Aunt, on the other hand…

Tatiana sipped her tea. "I understand," she said, "that you're also in favor of Moroi fighting with the guardians and attacking Strigoi?"

"I think if there are Moroi who want to, they shouldn't be denied the chance." Lissa offered.

"Moroi lives are precious," said the queen. "They shouldn't be risked."

"Dhampir lives are precious too," Lissa countered. "If they fight with Moroi, it could save everybody. And again, if Moroi are willing, why deny them? They deserve to know how to defend themselves. And people like Tasha Ozera have developed ways of fighting with magic."

The mention of Christian's aunt brought a frown to the queen's face. Everyone knew that Natasha had been attacked by Strigoi when younger and had spent the rest of her life learning to fight back. "Tasha Ozera … she's a troublemaker. She's starting to gather a lot of other troublemakers."

"She's trying to introduce new ideas. Throughout history, people with new ideas—who think differently and try to change things—have always been called troublemakers. But seriously? Do you want the truth?" Lissa sounded confident in her beliefs. Adrian bit his lip, hoping she knew what she was doing. If she pissed his Aunt off, the Queen might decide to order Adrian back home, away from the princess. Which meant away from Rose. His leg began to shake, betraying his nerves.

A wry look crossed Tatiana's face, almost a smile. "Always."

"We need change. I mean, our traditions are important. We shouldn't give up on those. But sometimes, I think we're misguided."

"Misguided?"

"As time's gone on, we've gone along with other changes. We've evolved. Computers. Electricity. Technology in general. We all agree those make our lives better. Why can't we be the same in the way we act? Why are we still clinging to the past when there are better ways to do things?" Lissa aura pulsed with excitement. She was like a religious zealot, preaching about salvation.

He watched the Queen, worried because her face was absolutely expressionless. That was never a good thing. It meant she was hiding her thoughts.

"You're very interesting to talk to," she finally said. "But I have things I must do now." She stood up, and everyone hastily followed suit, even Adrian. "I won't be joining you for dinner, but you and your companions will have everything you need. I'll see you tomorrow at the trial. No matter how radical and naively idealistic your ideas are, I'm glad you'll be there to complete his sentencing. His imprisonment, at least, is something we can all agree on."

Tatiana swept out, two guardians immediately following. Priscilla followed too, leaving Lissa and Adrian alone.

He relaxed. That could have gone better, but all in all, Lissa had held her own. "Well done, cousin. Aren't many people who can throw the old lady off-balance like that."

"She didn't seem very off-balance."

"Oh, she was. Believe me. Most of the people she deals with every day wouldn't talk to her like that, let alone someone your age." He offered Lissa his hand. "Come on. I'll show you around this place. Take your mind off things."

"I've been here before," she said. "When I was younger."

"Yeah, well, the things we get to see when we're young are different than the things we get to see when we're older. Did you know there's a twenty-four-hour bar in here? We'll get you a drink."

"I don't want a drink."

He rolled his eyes. He wanted a drink, and she was damn well coming with him. Where Lissa went, Rose was sure to follow. "You will before this trip's over."

He led her to his favorite watering hole, and the bartender called out a jovial greeting, immediately sliding two glasses of his favorite brand of vodka in front of them.

"A toast to the last remaining Dragomir." He clinked his glass against hers, and watched with amusement as she downed the drink, her face wrinkling with distaste as she set the glass down. "Easy there, cousin. If you keep throwing them back like that, people might say I'm a bad influence on you."

A tiny smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Aren't you?"

"Well, yes," he smirked, "but that doesn't mean we want them talking about it." He polished off his drink, nodding at the bartender. "Make this one a triple."

Lissa's eyes widened as the man promptly refilled the glasses. "Adrian, I don't think I should—"

"Hush, this will be your last one. You can just sit there and keep me company. Now it's your turn to make a toast."

She thought for a moment, then her smile turned decidedly mischievous. "To you.. and Rose. May things work out in the future."

"I'll drink to that," he said.

And he did. Five more times.

After that, it was time to find his Rosebud.

He could see Lissa tense when they located the others in the coffee shop, probably because she hadn't expected to see the Rinaldi girl. She covered her surprise well, greeting the small blonde in a friendly manner. When they started to chatter about catching up, he tuned out. The only thing he cared to focus on was the gorgeous brunette sitting across the table, sipping on a cup of something that looked like tea.

When Lissa finally stopped talking, Christian grabbed her hand. "How'd your thing with the queen go?" he asked.

"Not so bad," she said. "I mean, not great either. But she didn't yell at me or humiliate me, so that's a start."

"Stop being modest." Adrian smiled, putting his arm around her, pleased to see Rose tense at his actions. "Princess Dragomir totally stood her ground. You should have seen it."

Lissa laughed.

"I don't suppose she mentioned why she decided to let us come to the trial?" Christian asked, shooting his arm a dirty look.

Lissa's laughter faded, but she was still smiling. "Adrian did it."

"What?" Christian and Rose asked in unison.

He smiled, pleased with himself. Rose hadn't seen that one coming. No doubt she still thought Belikov had somehow managed to save the day.

"He convinced her that we needed to be here. He apparently harassed her until she gave in." Lissa said, smiling at him.

"It's called 'persuasion,' not 'harassment.'" He offered, smirking.

Lissa laughed again, while Rose stared at him, her face scrunched up, looking puzzled. He waited, knowing she'd realize it soon enough, he'd mentioned it once or twice, in passing.

"How closely are you guys related?" Her eyes glazed over for a second, as if she were daydreaming, then she narrowed her eyes at him. "She's your aunt."

"Great-aunt. And I'm her favorite great nephew. Well, I'm her only great nephew, but that's not important. I'd still be her favorite," he answered.

"Unbelievable," said Christian.

"I'll second that," Rose said, sounding irritated.

"None of you appreciate me. Why is it so hard to believe that I could make a real contribution in these dark times?" He stood up, pretending to be pissed off. "My cigarettes and I are going outside. At least they show me respect."

He leaned against the brick wall, eyes closed, savoring the first rush of nicotine as it hit his system. He could have smoked inside, the only reason he'd left to do it was out of respect for Rose—she hated the smell. He wondered what she'd thought about Lissa's little announcement. Would she thank him? Did she even care that he'd fought like hell to grant her request? Probably not. For whatever reason, Rose detested him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wished he could go back and change his past. Erase all the partying, and the women. Relive his life being… respectable. Maybe then she'd—

The sound of a muffled cough opened his eyes. Rose stood outside the door, eying him.

"Don't start in about the smoking," He said. "You didn't have to come outside. You knew I was here."

"That's actually why I'm here. Well, that, and I felt like I was going to go crazy if I stayed inside another minute."

He tilted his head, examining her face, waiting for the punch line. Surely she was joking. He flicked his eyes to her aura, and froze, his eyebrows shooting skyward. "You aren't kidding, are you? What happened? You were fine a few minutes ago."

She paced a few feet away from him. "I don't know. I was fine. Then Christian and Lissa started having this stupid argument over you. It was weird. They were the ones who were mad—and then I ended up madder than both of them."

"Wait. They were arguing over me?" What the hell? What did he do now, besides be friendly?

"Yes. I just said that. Weren't you paying attention?" Her tone was pure sarcasm.

That was too much. It pushed his tolerance level over the threshold. He was tired of her being a bitch to him. "Hey, don't snap at me. I haven't done anything to you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Christian's jealous because you hang around Lissa so much."

"We're studying spirit," he said. "He's welcome to join in."

"Yeah, well, no one ever said love was reasonable. Seeing you come back together kind of set him off. And then he got upset because you pulled rank with the queen for Lissa."

This was absolutely ridiculous. Seriously? Was she that dense? "I didn't do it for her. I did it for all of you—but, well, you especially."

Rose came to a halt in front of him. "I didn't believe you. That you could do it."

He grinned. "Guess you should have listened to my family history in that dream after all."

"I guess. I just thought…" She stopped, a sad look crossing her face. He'd be willing to bet his inheritance that she was thinking of the damned Russian—probably how she'd thought he would be the one to play her knight in shining armor.

"Thought what?" He prompted.

"Nothing." She paused, and he almost laughed at the expression on her face. "Thank you for helping us."

"Oh my God," he said. "A kind word from Rose Hathaway. I can die a happy man."

"What are you saying? That I'm normally an ungrateful bitch?"

He just looked at her, his expression clearly stating that yes, indeed, she was. She treated his like some kind of pariah.

"Hey! Not cool."

"Maybe you could redeem yourself with a hug." He offered, half joking, knowing she'd never agree.

Her answering glare confirmed it. God, did she really hate him that much?

"A small one?" he asked.

Heaving an enormous sigh, she walked over and put one arm around him, leaning her head lightly against his arm. "Thanks, Adrian."

He was so shocked he dropped his cigarette. Time stopped for him. He reveled in the feeling of her being so close to him. His heart was pounding so hard he was afraid she'd feel it—that would be too embarrassing for word, if she knew how much this affected him.

The doors opened, the rest of their group stepping outside. They all looked shocked—well, except Lissa, who was trying to hide a small smile. He didn't care. Nothing could diminish the happiness he felt—Rose had hugged him.

Nothing that is, until she pulled away.

"Heading out?" She asked.

"Yeah, Mia's got more important things to do than hang out with us," joked Christian.

"Hey, I just told my dad I'd meet him. I'll see you guys before I leave." She started to walk away, then abruptly turned around. "God, I'm so out of it." She reached into her coat pocket and handed Rose a folded piece of paper. "This is half the reason I found you guys. One of the court clerks wanted me to give this to you."

"Thanks," Rose said. She looked puzzled again.

Mia took off, and they all began making their way towards their rooms, with Adrian bringing up the rear. He'd lit another cigarette, and didn't want the smoke bothering his little dhampire.

Rose had slowed down—perhaps forgetting he was behind her—opening the note. She paled, her hand slightly shaking, causing him to peer at the note over her shoulder.

Rose,

I was so happy to hear about your arrival. I'm sure it'll make tomorrow's proceedings that much more entertaining. I've been curious for quite some time about how Vasilisa is doing, and your romantic escapades are always an amusing diversion.

I can't wait to share them in the courtroom tomorrow.

Best,

V.D.

He stepped back, his mind racing. Dashkov. How had the man arranged to smuggle out a note? He replayed what he'd read in his mind, trying to figure out what had frightened Rose.

"Who's it from?" asked Eddie, coming up beside her.

She folded the note, cramming it in her pocket. She was so nervous her hands were visibly trembling. "No one."

No one indeed. It hit him, in that instant, what it was that bothered her. The line 'Your romantic escapades are always an amusing diversion. I can't wait to share them in the courtroom tomorrow.' was what had stunned her.

She was terrified, not for herself, but for her precious mentor. Dashkov was threatening to go public with the lust charm.


	26. Curiosity Killed the Cat

He waited, for hours. Every so often, he would zone out, reaching for her mind, but she was still awake, out of reach. It was beyond frustrating. He was in desperate need of a drink, but couldn't have one, for fear it would interfere with his ability to reach her. His curiosity was driving him insane. He knew, without a doubt, that she'd made a beeline for Belikov as soon as she was able. What he didn't know, what was driving him nuts, was what had happened. What would happen… tomorrow.

Finally, his patience was rewarded. He touched her mind, pulling back slightly, as always, because he wanted to watch only, not to interact. The room that materialized around him was, as he'd expected, Belikov's temporary lodgings.

Rose was slouched on the couch—nowhere near the bed, thank God—and Belikov was… rearranging the furniture? He watched as the tall man drug a chair across the room, sinking down in it as graceful as a cat. It irritated Adrian beyond words. Surely someone so gargantuan should be… awkward. Graceless. Not Guardian Dimitri "I am perfect" Belikov. Every movement he made appeared fluid and smooth; he was the epitome of graceful. The asshole must have been born under a lucky star.

Rose picked up the battered novel that was lying beside her, studying it for a moment. Adrian glanced at the title, snorting. Another damned western. This guy had a damn obsession with cowboys.

"Why do you read these?" She asked, her voice teasing.

"Some people read books for fun," he observed.

"Hey, watch the dig. And I do read books. I read them to solve mysteries that threaten my best friend's life and sanity. I don't think reading this cowboy stuff is really saving the world like I do."

Belikov took the book from her and flipped it over. "Like any book, it's an escape. And there's something … mmm. I don't know. Something appealing about the Old West. No rules. Everyone just lives by their own code. You don't have to be tied down by others' ideas of right and wrong in order to bring justice."

Huh. Adrian smirked., knowing what he meant by that—he'd like to not be tied down by the rule that said pedophilic teachers needed to stay away from their young, female students.

"Wait," Rose laughed. "I thought I was the one who wanted to break rules."

"I didn't say I wanted to. Just that I can see the appeal."

"You can't fool me, comrade. You want to put on a cowboy hat and keep lawless bank robbers in line."

Adrian rolled his eyes. She was right. That's probably why the man wore that ridiculous looking coat all the time. Maybe he should buy him a cowboy hat and leave it anonymously outside his dorm room—that'd be worth a chuckle or two.

"No time. I have enough trouble keeping you in line." Belikov shot her a pointed look.

She grinned at him, and the sight broke Adrian's heart. He watched as their auras reached across the small space between them, winding around each other, resembling the way cats liked to weave around their owners ankles.

"I'm sorry," Dimitri said suddenly, dragging his attention back to the conversation.

"For what? Reading cheesy novels?"

"For not being able to get you here. I feel like I let you down." Belikov's calm expression shifted; he looked… worried. Adrian watched fear flash across his aura. Did the man have so little faith in Rose that he thought something as small as that would make her stop loving him? A faint green slowly flowed through the other colors. Ah. He was jealous. Worried that Adrian might have made an impression. Well, he certainly hoped so.

"You didn't," She told him. "I acted like a total brat. You've never let me down before. You didn't let me down with this."

Fuck. Seriously? The man could do no wrong in her eyes. It was as if she had blinders on, and reused to see his flaws.

He shot her a grateful look, his muscles tensing—Adrian wondered if he were about to move over onto the sofa next to her. God, if they started making out—

Belikov's phone rang. He answered, having a brief conversation with someone in Russian. Something about understanding the rules, that they'd keep their visit brief. He ended the call, standing up and nodding at Rose.

"All right, let's go."

"Where?"

"To see Victor Dashkov."

Apparently, Belikov had a few connections of his own. Adrian trailed after them, amazed at how vast Rose's dreamscape was. Even though she didn't appear to be paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings, every detail was there. When they'd started walking, he'd expected them to pass through… a blur. Instead, it was all extremely life like.

"Why are we doing this?" She whispered once they'd reached the jail. "You think we can talk him out of it?"

Dimitri shook his head. "If Victor wanted to take revenge on us, he'd just do it without any warning. He doesn't do things without a reason. The fact that he told you first means he wants something, and now we're going to find out what it is."

The Dashkov prince sat in a chair, idly examining his nails. "Oh my. This is a treat. Lovely Rosemarie, practically an adult now." His eyes flicked toward Dimitri. "Of course, some have been treating you that way for quite a while."

Adrian bit back a laugh. Victor may be a complete and utter ass, but the man had a quick wit. His words infuriated Rose, who charged the bars, pressing her face against them. Her expression was fierce, much as it had appeared the day he'd compelled her to release the Moroi girl.

"Stop screwing with us, you son of a bitch. What do you want?" She hissed.

Dimitri put a gentle hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. "Easy, Rose."

Taking a deep breath, she slowly stepped backward, beside him. Their bodies tilted almost immediately, leaning towards each other, mirroring each mirroring the others posture.

Victor straightened up in his chair and laughed. "After all this time, your cub still hasn't learned any control. But then, maybe you never really wanted her to."

He felt his lips turn up in a smile. Why would anyone want Rose to learn control? He had a feeling her inability to control herself would translate into extremely pleasurable bedroom activities. She'd be a little wildcat in the sack—a fact he hoped Belikov never had the pleasure of discovering.

"We aren't here to banter," said Dimitri calmly. "You wanted to lure Rose over, and now we need to know why."

"Does there have to be some sinister reason? I just wanted to know how she was doing, and something tells me we aren't going to have a chance for any friendly chats tomorrow."

"We're not going to have a friendly chat now," Rose growled.

"You think I'm joking, but I'm not. I really do want to know how you're doing. You've always been a fascinating subject to me, Rosemarie. The only shadow-kissed person we know of. I told you before, that isn't the kind of thing you walk away from unscathed. There's no way you can quietly sink into the regimented routine of academic life. People like you aren't meant to blend in."

Shadow-kissed. There was that term again. Adrian moved closer, forcing himself to concentrate.

"I'm not some kind of science experiment."

Dashkov acted as if she hadn't said anything. "What's it been like? What have you noticed?"

"There's no time for this. If you don't get to the point," warned Dimitri, "we're going to leave."

Rose leaned towards the bars, giving the man behind them a bone chilling smile. "There's no way they'll let you off tomorrow. I hope you enjoy prison. I bet it'll be great once you get sick again—and you will, you know."

Victor regarded her with an amused look. "All things die, Rose. Well, except for you, I suppose. Or maybe you are dead. I don't know. Those who visit the world of the dead can probably never fully shake their connection to it."

Rose looked… stunned. He would have given a great deal to know what was playing through her head at that moment. It appeared that Dashkov agreed, because he was studying her intently.

"Yes? There's something you'd like to say?" He asked.

Rose stared at him. "What is the world of the dead? Is it heaven or hell?"

"Neither," he answered, still smiling.

"What lives there? Ghosts? Will I go back? Do things come out of it?" She was shooting off questions in machine gun fashion, her aura flaring with pure panic.

Victor's smile morphed into a full on leer. "Well, clearly some things come out of it, because here you stand before us."

"He's baiting you," said Dimitri. "Let it go."

Victor gave Dimitri a brief glare. "I'm helping her." He turned back to Rose. "Honestly? I don't know that much about it. You're the one who has been there, Rose. Not me. Not yet. Someday, you'll probably be the one educating me. I'm sure the more you deal death out, the closer you'll become to it."

There was a riddle in those words, one that Adrian's unstable brain picked up on in an instant. The more you deal death… The more you deal death… The words echoed in his head, committing themselves to memory. But why? Why should that mean anything to him?

"Enough," said Dimitri, voice harsh. "We're going."

"Wait, wait," said Victor, voice congenial. "You haven't told me about Vasilisa yet."

Rose moved forward again. "Stay away from her. She doesn't have anything to do with this."

Victor gave her a knowing look. "Seeing as I'm locked away here, I have no choice but to stay away from her, my dear. And you're wrong—Vasilisa has everything to do with everything."

"That's it," Rose said, suddenly getting it. "That's why you sent the note. You wanted me here because you wanted to know about her, and you knew there was no way she'd come talk to you herself. You had nothing to blackmail her with."

"Blackmail's an ugly word."

"There's no way you're going to see her—at least outside of the courtroom. She's never going to heal you. I told you: You're going to get sick again, and you're going to die. You're going to be the one sending me postcards from the other side." Rose smirked at him, trying to wound him with her words.

"You think that's what this is about? You think my needs are that petty?" The mockery was gone, replaced by a zealous look. "You've forgotten everything, why I did what I did. You've been so caught up in your own shortsightedness that you missed the big picture I was looking at."

"You wanted to stage a revolution—still want to. That's crazy. It's not going to happen," She said.

"It's already happening. Do you think I don't know what's going on out in the world? I still have contacts. People can be bought off—how do you think I was able to send you that message? I know about the unrest—I know about Natasha Ozera's movement to get Moroi to fight with guardians. You stand by her and vilify me, Rosemarie, but I pushed for the very same thing last fall. Yet, somehow, you don't seem to regard her in the same way."

"Tasha Ozera is working on her cause a bit differently than you did," noted Dimitri.

Rose tensed as soon as Belikov spoke the other woman's name. Adrian rolled his eyes. After everything Natasha had done, Belikov still thought she was one of the good guys?

"And that's why she's getting nowhere," Victor retorted. "Tatiana and her council are being held back by centuries of archaic traditions. So long as that sort of power rules us, nothing will change. We will never learn to fight. Non-royal Moroi will never have a voice. Dhampirs like you will continually be sent out to battle."

"It's what we dedicate our lives to," said Dimitri. His frustration was evident. Judging by his aura, he was about to pull a Vesuvius and erupt.

"And it's what you lose your lives for. You're all but enslaved and don't even realize it. And for what? Why do you protect us?"

"Because … we need you," Rose answered. "For our race to survive."

"You don't need to throw yourselves into battle for that. Making children isn't really that difficult."

Wait… what? Reproduction _was_ difficult, no impossible for dhampirs—they couldn't procreate together. Everyone knew that. Adrian narrowed his eyes, straining to see the faint aura around Victor. It was hard, because he'd never paid attention to the man's aura in reality. With Rose and Belikov, well, he'd studied them so intently, that he could pick them out of a crowd. This… This was difficult. There—he studied it, cocking his head as he tried to get a feel for Dashkov's emotions. He knew something. Something important. Surely he didn't know a way to fix…

Rose's voice drug him out of his analysis, making him realize he'd missed out on quite a bit. He'd totally zoned out, trying to grasp what was hidden.

"Unbelievable," She said. "First you wanted to hide her away to keep you alive. Now you actually want her out in the world to use her compulsion for your own psycho plans."

"I told you, she's a force for change. And like you being shadow-kissed, she's the only one of her kind that we know about. That makes her dangerous—and very valuable."

"Lissa will never do it. She's not going to abuse her powers."

"And Victor's not going to say anything about us," said Dimitri, tugging her arm. "He's achieved his goal. He brought you here because he wanted to know about Lissa."

"He didn't find out much," Rose said.

"You'd be surprised," said Victor. He grinned at Dimitri. "And what makes you so certain I won't enlighten the world about your romantic indiscretions?"

"Because it won't save you from prison. And if you ruin Rose, you'll destroy whatever weak chance you had of Lissa helping you with your warped fantasy."

Victor flinched. Dimitri stepped forward, pressing close to the bars, imitating Rose's early movements. When he spoke his next words, Adrian felt chilled, even though the words weren't directed at him.

"And it'll all be pointless anyway, because you won't stay alive long enough in prison to stage your grand plans. You aren't the only one with connections."

Adrian stared at the man. He'd come to think of him as nothing more than an obstacle—a speed bump standing in the way of him winning Rose's affections. Watching him now, standing there, glaring down at Dashkov from his considerably greater height, hearing him threatening the man—he realized how dangerous the Russian could be. He was a killing machine. And he would do anything to protect Rose. If Dashkov followed through with his little threats, Belikov would not rest until the man was six feet under, taking a dirt nap.

If Victor was frightened by Belikov's threat, he didn't show it. His jade green eyes flicked from Rose to Belikov, then back again. "You two are a match made in heaven. Or somewhere."

"See you in court," Rose said.

He followed them as they made their way out, listening as Dimitri thanked the guard on duty. It amused him to see Rose's frustration when the conversation flew in Russian; maybe he'd teach her a word or two, if she ever acted friendly.

Walking behind them, he could tell Belikov was still furious. The man was so angry his jaw was tense; he was almost shaking with pent up rage. Apparently Rose noticed it too.

"Are you okay?" She asked, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"As okay as I can be."

"Do you think he'll tell everyone about us?"

"No."

They walked in silence for a bit, Rose glancing at him from time to time with a curious expression on her face. He waited, knowing she wouldn't be able to contain it for long. Whatever it was she was thinking—

"Did you mean it… that if Victor did tell…that you'd…" She stopped in mid-sentence, biting down on her full lower lip.

Adrian almost laughed. He knew her too well.

"I don't have much influence in the upper levels of Moroi royalty, but I have plenty among the guardians who handle the dirty work in our world."

"You didn't answer the question. If you'd really do it."

"I'd do a lot of things to protect you, Roza."

Her aura flared a brilliant, bright pink. In that moment, she loved him more than anything. It made Adrian want to vomit.

"It wouldn't exactly be protecting me. It'd be after the fact—cold-blooded. You don't do that kind of thing," She said. "Revenge is more my thing. I'll have to kill him."

Adrian stopped walking. Was she serious? He could imagine Belikov doing something like that, there was something… animalistic about the man. But his little dhampire? No way.

Belikov didn't like the thought either. "Don't talk like that. And anyway, it doesn't matter. Victor's not going to say anything."

They entered the building, splitting up. Adrian waited for the dream to fade, but surprisingly, it didn't. The hall they were walking down… shifted, and so did Rose's clothing. As a matter of fact, her entire demeanor changed, and so did her aura. Now it was full of despair and… heartbreak. He pushed out slightly, testing the boundaries of the vision. No, this wasn't just a regular dream. While sleeping, Rose had fallen into another memory. He contemplated pulling out and leaving her to it, but as she walked down the long, dark hallway, he couldn't help but wonder, where in the hell was she going?


	27. Agony into Ecstasy

Of course, he followed her. How could he not? He had a burning desire to know anything and everything about her. Since the first time he'd seen her, she had been the… well, the spark that gave his life meaning. Once he had her, he knew everything would fall into place. She inspired him, filling him with the desire to make something of himself.

They were walking towards two guardians now, a hallway forming around them; it became more realistic with every step they took. She began to speak in hushed tones to the men, he was still too far back to hear what she said clearly, but he caught the words 'Lissa' and 'torture'.

One of the men nodded and she moved through the doorway, causing Adrian to increase his pace, jogging towards her. She stood just inside, staring into… another jail cell? He moved around her, gasping as he saw the prisoner. Victor Dashkov. What the—

"Why Rose, what a nice surprise. Your ingenuity never fails to impress me. I didn't think they'd allow me any visitors." Victor smiled at her, amused.

She crossed her arms, a fierce expression twisting her beautiful features. "I want you to break the spell. Finish it off."

"What do you mean?"

"The spell you did on me and Dimitri."

Ah. Now it made sense. Her subconscious had linked the two meetings with Dashkov together. Interesting.

"That spell is done. It burned itself out." Victor arched an eyebrow at her, watching her carefully.

She shook her head. "No. I keep thinking about him. I keep wanting to…"

His smile widened—her ignorance appeared to amuse him. "My dear, that was already there, long before I set that up."

"It wasn't like this. Not this bad."

"Maybe not consciously. But everything else…the attraction—physical and mental—was already in you. And in him. It wouldn't have worked otherwise. The spell didn't really add anything new—it just removed inhibitions and strengthened the feelings you already had for each other."

"You're lying. He said he didn't feel that way about me."

Obviously this memory was something that happened after the… incident in his room. Damn Belikov. Why was he constantly hurting her? Couldn't he just be truthful for a change?

"He's lying. I tell you, the spell wouldn't have worked otherwise, and honestly, he should have known better. He had no right to let himself feel that way. You can be forgiven for a schoolgirl's crush. But him? He should have demonstrated more control in hiding his feelings. Natalie saw it and told me. After just a few observations of my own, it was obvious to me too. It gave me the perfect chance to distract you both. I keyed the necklace's charm for each of you, and you two did the rest."

"You're a sick bastard, doing that to me and him. And to Lissa." Her face was flushed with anger.

"I have no regrets about what I did with her," he declared, leaning against the wall. "I'd do it again if I could. Believe what you want, I love my people. What I wanted to do was in their best interest. Now? Hard to say. They have no leader, no real leader. There's no one worthy, really." He cocked his head toward me, considering. "Vasilisa actually might have been such a one—if she could ever have found it within herself to believe in something and overcome the influence of spirit. It's ironic, really. Spirit can shape someone into a leader and also crush her ability to remain one. The fear, depression, and uncertainty take over, and keep her true strength buried deep within her. Still, she has the blood of the Dragomirs, which is no small thing. And of course, she has you, her shadow-kissed guardian. Who knows? She may surprise us yet."

"'Shadow-kissed'?" She repeated, making it a question.

"You've been kissed by shadows. You've crossed into Death, into the other side, and returned. Do you think something like that doesn't leave a mark on the soul? You have a greater sense of life and the world—far greater than even I have—even if you don't realize it. You should have stayed dead. Vasilisa brushed Death to bring you back and bound you to her forever. You were actually in its embrace, and some part of you will always remember that, always fight to cling to life and experience all it has. That's why you're so reckless in the things you do. You don't hold back your feelings, your passion, your anger. It makes you remarkable. It makes you dangerous."

She stared at him, her face shocked. She looked… speechless. Adrian watched unease flowing around her as she processed what she'd heard.

"It's what created your bond, too. Her feelings always press out of her, onto others. Most people can't pick up on them unless she's actually directing her thoughts toward them with compulsion. You, however, have a mind sensitive to extrasensory forces—hers in particular." He sighed. "Yes, this ridiculous Academy has no idea what they have in either you or her. If not for the fact that I needed to kill you, I would have made you part of my royal guard when you were older."

"You never would've had a royal guard. Don't you think people would have been weirded out by you suddenly recovering like that? Even if no one found out about Lissa, Tatiana never would have made you king." She stepped closer to the bars, and he had to fight the urge to pull her back. It wouldn't work, of course. It would alert her to his presence, shifting this into a typical spirit dream.

"You may be right, but it doesn't matter. There are other ways of taking power. Sometimes it's necessary to go outside the established channels. Do you think Kenneth is the only Moroi who follows me? The greatest and most powerful revolutions often start very quietly, hidden in the shadows." He eyed her. "Remember that."

A strange shuffling sound carried down the hallway, followed by a thump, drawing Adrian's eye to the door. The Guardians were gone. Rose spun towards the door, craning her neck, her entire body filled with sudden tension. Adrian took a step towards her, wondering what was—

Victor stood up. "Finally."

Adrian froze in horror as a young Moroi—no, strike that, former Moroi—round the corner. He could tell what she was the moment she came into view, and his brain was screaming at him to grab Rose and shift the scene to a beautiful beach somewhere far, far away. Why wasn't Rose panicking? He took another step towards her, then forced himself back against the wall. Just a memory. Just a dream vision. He repeated the words over and over, hoping they'd calm his racing heart. Rose was still alive—she'd hugged him this afternoon. She had made it through this situation in one piece.

"Hey," Rose said, a sad smile on her face. "I didn't think they'd let you in."

The Strigoi walked right up to Rose and threw her across the room. She landed in a heap next to Adrian, the dream vision blurring around them—she must have been fighting for consciousness.

"What?…" She clasp a hand on her forehead, struggling to get up.

The Strigoi unlocked Victor's cell with a set of keys—she must have taken them from the Guardians. He briefly wondered if they were still among the living. He saw Rose staggering to her feet and almost screamed in frustration as she approached the monster.

"What are you doing?"

The Strigoi glanced up at Rose. He watched as she realized exactly what the hell she was looking at. A look of complete terror shot across her face, but only for an instant. She ducked her head, slightly crouching as she dodged the first blow, backing away as the… creature stalked towards her.

Without warning, the female leaped forward, grabbing Rose and slamming her head into the wall. Adrian's hands balled into fists as he watched them fight, terrified as his little dhampir struggled to free herself.

"My dear," Victor said, "try not to kill her if you don't have to. We might be able to use her later."

The Strigoi paused the attack, giving Rose a few seconds to back up, but those awful eyes remained locked on her the entire time. "I'll try not to. Get out of here now. I'll meet you there when I'm done."

"I can't believe you!" Rose screamed at Dashkov. "You got your own daughter to turn Strigoi?"

"A last resort. A necessary sacrifice made for the greater good. Natalie understands." He left.

"Do you? Do you understand? God, Natalie. You…you turned. Just because he told you to?" Rose's voice trembled, betraying her fear.

"My father's a great man," she replied. "He's going to save the Moroi from the Strigoi."

"Are you insane?" Rose had been backing away, but now, she hit the wall a few feet to Adrian's left. "You are a Strigoi."

The monster shrugged. "I had to do it to get him out of here before the others came. One Strigoi to save all of the Moroi. It's worth it, worth giving up the sun and the magic."

"But you'll want to kill Moroi! You won't be able to help it."

"He'll help me stay in control. If not, then they'll have to kill me." She reached out and latched onto Rose, pulling her closer.

"You are insane. You can't love him that much. You can't really—"

She hurled her into the wall again, Rose crumpling on the floor like a broken doll. Good God, where were the guardians? Shouldn't someone have realized Rose was missing by now? The vision started to fade again, this time, slowly but steadily turning dark. He stared at Rose, horrified. Her aura was… fading. Fuck! She was dying! He tried to slow his breathing, but it wasn't happening, he was hyperventilating. A memory, just a memory… The room was fading away—no! He had to see how this ended! A noise drew his attention—

He sighed, relieved for the first time in his life to see Belikov running towards them. In that moment, he did something without consciously thinking about it. He had no idea what he was doing; he hadn't even known it was possible. His power reached towards the tall man's aura, and the vision… froze for a moment. Everything flickered. Adrian glanced around and saw… two different dreamscapes, one superimposed over the other. What the fuck?

Belikov stood there, blinking, a confused look on his face as he stared at Rose lying on the ground, then at the Strigoi looming over her. Adrian narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the strange overlay to the setting he'd been in moments before. The… gym. Shit. Somehow, in his panic, he'd managed to enter the Russian's dream while still maintaining Rose's, pulling the two together. Damn. This was a new development. Extremely fucked up, but interesting, nonetheless.

He stared at the gym, concentrating, trying to slowly erasing its existence. Once that was done, he turned to Belikov, wondering exactly how in the hell he was supposed to fix this. He concentrated on the dream vision he'd been sharing with Rose, forcing it into the other man's mind. And just like that, it worked. The sweat pants and muscle shirt melted into jeans and a T-shirt, covered by that ridiculous long coat. Belikov just stood there.

What the hell? How did he get this rolling again? He fought back the urge to yell action, opting instead to sent out a flare of spirit. Suddenly Belikov charged the Strigoi. Adrian sank down near Rose, watching her aura. She was fading fast. Too fast. He didn't spare a thought to the fight going on in the room, he didn't care. He just wanted to see Rose fixed. He couldn't leave, knowing she was hurt, even if it was just a memory. He just… couldn't.

He jumped, started when Belikov leaned over Rose, slipping his arms under her body. He stood in one smooth movement, cradling her against his body. Adrian ran beside him, thankful that smoking didn't affect his athletic ability in dreams.

"Hey, Comrade," Her voice was thin… weak. "You were right about Strigoi."

"Open your eyes. Don't go to sleep on me. Not yet." He stared down at her, his eyes wide and panic stricken. His voice was almost unrecognizable, the accent thick, his words filled with anguish.

"Was he right?" She asked.

"Who?"

"Victor…he said it couldn't have worked. The necklace." Her head dropped back, her eyes closed.

He jiggled his arms, trying to keep her awake. "What do you mean?"

"The said you had to want me…to care about me…for it to work." She grabbed at his shirt, her fingers slipping off as her head began to nod again. "Did you? Did you want me?"

"Yes, Roza. I did want you. I still do. I wish…we could be together." His voice was husky and full of pain. Adrian's eyes flicked to his aura, but he'd exerted too much… the colors were blurred, the emotions unreadable.

"Then why did you lie to me?"

Belikov opened the door with his elbow, yelling for help at the top of his lungs. Adrian leaned against the wall, feeling strangely dizzy.

"Why did you lie?" she asked again, her voice weaker than before.

He looked down at her, his face full of pain. Adrian could hear others approaching—the Russian was running out of time.

"Because we can't be together."

She was fucking dying in his arms, and still he played games. Adrian swore he'd figure out how he'd melded and created this new dream, and he'd make another—one that sent Belikov straight into the pits of hell. He'd torment the man every night for the rest of him life with it.

"Because of the age thing, right? "Her voice a broken whisper so soft it was almost nonexistent. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed up at him. "Because you're my mentor?"

His fingertip gently wiped away her tears. "That's part of it," he said. "But also…well, you and I will both be Lissa's guardians someday. I need to protect her at all costs. If a pack of Strigoi come, I need to throw my body between them and her."

"I know that. Of course that's what you have to do." Her head nodded backwards again, her mouth dropping slightly open.

"No. If I let myself love you, I won't throw myself in front of her. I'll throw myself in front of you."

A team of medical personnel surrounded them, pulling Rose away, sliding her onto a gurney and wheeling her into the depths of the building. He trailed Belikov as the man slammed out the door, watching every move he made. When the Russian ran for the trees, Adrian was on his heels, only a few steps behind. Once hidden by the thick trees, Belikov stopped, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes, his massive body shaking as he bent over, his breath coming in gasps. Adrian concentrated, straining to see something, anything of the other man's aura. He could tell he was struggling, trying to—

Belikov made a strange noise that stopped Adrian in his tracks. He was… crying. Deep, painful, sobs—dreadful, gut wrenching cries of frustration and hurt. He dropped to his knees, throwing his head back, staring up into the treetops. His raspy, tear filled voice echoed through the small clearing as he screamed something out in Russian, venting his emotions to the dark forest.

"Too late—It's too late!" His voice dropped to almost a whisper as he continued. "I love her. God help me, I love my Roza."

Adrian stood watching, his emotions conflicted. This was his fault. Belikov was experiencing this anguish because he'd forced him to relive the memory. He sighed, watching the man beat his fists against the ground. He had to fix it. Just as he couldn't leave Rose almost dying on the floor, he couldn't leave this man—much as he hated him—in torment. Tomorrow, he'd detest the man again. Tomorrow he'd resume his pursuit of Rosebud. But tonight… tonight he'd cast their differences aside, and leave the man with a happy dream. He'd turn his agony into ecstasy, if only for one night.

He sent out a burst of spirit, tweaking the dream, changing the forest into a plain, unadorned dorm room. He removed the coat and shoes, then replaced the T-shirt and jeans with a pair of comfortable pajama bottoms. One more flare of power, and there was a frantic pounding at the door. He watched Belikov's expression instantly change from one of desolate agony to one of happy anticipation. When he opened the door to let Rose—in that fabulous little black dress—enter, Adrian stepped back, out of the dream.

Returning to himself, he stood, fighting the dizziness that slammed into him. Too much—he'd pulled on too much spirit. Walking to the bar that sat against the far wall, he grabbed a bottle of vodka, draining half of it before he collapsed to the ground, into the welcoming arms of oblivion.


	28. Dousing the Drunk

He was drowning. In icy, frigid water.

Gasping for breath, he opened his eyes, shocked to find his head submerged. Jerking upright, he spun around, staring into a pair of concerned brown eyes. Belikov. Alberta was right—he was trying to kill him. A panicked male voice drew his attention away from the Russian.

"Thank God! I thought you were dying Ivashkov!"

He leaned back, wondering who had witnessed the attempted manslaughter, hoping that they'd be willing to testify about what had happened.

Augustine Voda was leaning against the wall, looking frazzled. "I knocked for like ten minutes! The door was unlocked, so I came in. You were passed out man—there was blood and glass everywhere! I tried to wake you up but you just kept saying 'Belikov". So I called down to the Guardian Center and had him paged. What the fuck, man?"

Belikov stood up, handing him a towel. "What happened, Lord Ivashkov?"

"Besides you trying to drown me?" Adrian snapped, grabbing the towel and glaring up at him.

The tall man's lips twitched. "Don't be ridiculous. If I were going to kill you, there are much easier ways to do it."

"Did you just make a joke?"

"No." The lips stopped twitching, his face a bland mask, giving away nothing.

Augustine brushed past Belikov, looking at Adrian's neck. "Dude, you cut yourself up pretty bad."

Adrian stood, using the rim of the half full bathtub for leverage. "I can't believe you dunked me. Don't they teach you how to revive someone in guardian training?"

Belikov shrugged. "Dousing a drunk in water is generally the easiest way to wake them. Why bother trying anything else?"

"I wasn't drunk! I—" He broke off as he caught a look at his neck in the mirror. Jesus. He'd have to ask Lissa to heal him. "What time is it? Is Lissa still awake?"

"The Princess is probably getting ready for the trial. Would you like me to get her?"

Adrian nodded. After Belikov left, he turned to Augustine. "Thanks man."

"Not the first time you've blacked out, bro. I wouldn't have called for Belikov, but the way you were acting… it kinda freaked me out."

"Yeah, well I owe you a bottle." He steered his guest towards the door, wanting to be alone. "I'll come find you later."

"Sure thing." Voda paused at the door. "Hey, what's going on with you and the dhampire chick? Everyone's talking about it."

"Later. We'll discuss it over drinks."

He fought not to slam the door behind the other man, slumping against it as he surveyed the room. Glass was everywhere. It looked like he hit the bar on his way to the floor, and took half its contents with him. He walked across the room, throwing open the windows to clear the air. It smelled like a distillery, and if the smell bothered him, it would make Lissa sick.

Unbuttoning his shirt, he returned to the bathroom to further assess the damage. God, he looked like he'd been mauled. His upper torso was covered in cuts, a few with tiny pieces of glass embedded in them. Wincing, he began to remove the shards, biting down on his lip, trying to ignore the pain. No one would believe he hadn't been drunk. Well—Lissa might, once he told her he'd pulled on too much spirit. He just hoped she wouldn't ask what he'd been using it for—especially not with Belikov in the room. A soft knocking alerted him of their arrival.

"It's open!"

He stuck his head around the door frame, smirking when he saw Lissa's nose wrinkle up in disgust at the smell. "It's not what you think, cousin. I wasn't on a bender. Hell, I only had one drink last night."

Belikov snorted as he entered the suite, shutting the door behind him.

Lissa stared at him, worry evident on her lovely face. "Oh Adrian—what did you do to yourself?" She crossed the room, laying her hands on two of the many wounds. He felt the soothing heat, and sighed.

"I pulled on too much spirit and blacked out." His eyes flicked over her head, locking with Dimitri's brown ones. "Like when we were at the lodge."

Understanding flashed across the other man's face, showing he remembered the way Adrian had collapsed after overexerting his elemental power when they'd been trying to locate Rose. He nodded, turning to survey the messy room.

"I'll be right back."

Lissa looked over her shoulder, calling out to him as he reached the door. "Take your time, I'm going to be awhile." Her eyes returned to Adrian. "I'm sorry for assuming the worst."

"No worries, cousin. Everyone assumes the worst about me. I'm used to it. It's part of being Adrian Ivashkov, the colossal fuck up."

"Don't say that." Lissa frowned. "Don't even think it. There's a lot more to you than people realize. I just wish…" She trailed off, sighing. "I just wish you didn't encourage the stories. It would make things easier on you."

"When did you get so wise, Lissa?" He joked, trying to lighten her somber mood. She ignored him, focusing on the task at hand.

Lissa was almost done by the time Belikov returned, carrying a broom, dustpan and a large black bag.

Adrian stared at him, confused. "What the—"

"If you have housekeeping clean this up, it will only create more gossip." With that, he began to clean up the glass while Adrian stared at him, shocked.

"Shut your mouth or you'll catch flies." Lissa whispered, smiling.

"Belikov, you don't have to do that."

Dimitri glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow. "I know I don't. I choose to."

Still not understanding why anyone would voluntarily clean up someone else's mess, he shut up. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sensation of the healing; trying to commit it to memory so he could attempt it in the future.

Ten minutes later, the radiating warmth stopped. "All done. You're good as new."

"Thanks. Look, could you not say anything about this to Rose? She already thinks I'm—"

"Don't worry, Adrian. We won't say a word. Will we, Guardian Belikov?" Lissa smiled at the other man, waiting for his agreement.

Belikov stood up, carefully tying off the bag full of glass. "No. We won't, Princess."

"I need to get back before Rose realizes I'm gone." Lissa gave him a hug, and let herself out of the room.

Belikov started to follow after her, then paused, turning to face Adrian. Dropping his head slightly so their eyes were level, he stared for a moment before speaking. His voice was quiet, sounding almost worried. "I won't tell Rose what happened here if you don't tell her what you witnessed last night."

He felt his eyes widen. "I'm not sure what you mean, Belikov."

"Don't. Don't lie to me. You were there—in the dream. It was one of your…" he faltered, unable to find the right word. "I didn't realize it until you… changed the dream. Whatever you did to restructure it, it alerted me to your presence."

"Would it help if I apologized?" Adrian asked.

Belikov chuckled. "Apologized for what? Turning a nightmare into something… else?"

Relief washed over him. The other man didn't realize he'd had the nightmare because of Adrian's meddling. Belikov just thought he'd been… snooping. "You're absolutely right. I won't say a word."

Dimitri nodded, heading for the door. Once he reached the hallway, he looked back over his shoulder, scowling slightly. "One more thing. Stay the hell out of my dreams. For that matter, keep out of Rose's as well." With that, he closed the door before Adrian could think of a witty reply.

He ran his hands through his wet hair, laughing as he headed for the shower. What a way to start the fucking day.


	29. Dashkov said What?

Half an hour later, he was presentable. And cutting it dangerously close, time wise. He set off for the courthouse at a jog, knowing his Aunt would be beyond pissed if he entered after the trial had started.

When he arrived, he immediately spotted Rose, sitting on the right hand side of the room with her little posse of friends. Belikov sat a few rows back, with the other guardians that would be called up to testify. The room was nowhere near full, so he had plenty of seats to choose from. Claiming one on the opposite side of the room near the aisle, he scanned the room before sitting down. From here, he would be able to see almost everyone. He slouched down, pleased to realize he'd even be able to see Dashkov from this position, once they brought him in. He sent a small surge of spirit into his aura, pulling it closer towards his body, using it to shield his presence. He wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible to everyone in the room.

A few minutes later, Victor Dashkov entered, looking just as amused as he had in the dream visions last night. It was almost as if the man thought himself to be above the law. Surely he realized that Tatiana would never let him walk free? His aunt may have some… issues, but no way would she let Dashkov skate on kidnapping the last Dragomir.

He shot a glance over at Rose and Lissa, wincing when he saw how pale his cousin—yes, he thought of her as his cousin, they did share blood, no matter how convoluted the family ties might be—had become. Her aura was glowing, bright with fear and worry. Just the sight of the man scared her out of her wits. Strangely enough, there were traces of sorrow, and regret there too. He pondered over that for a moment, then grasped on something he'd failed to realize in the past. Before Dashkov had kidnapped her, she'd loved the man; he'd always been like an uncle to her. This trial would be a double edged sword for her; the man who'd abused her would be punished, but so would the uncle she's cherished in the past.

Dashkov looked around the courtroom, his green eyes flitting from one person to the next. They passed over Adrian entirely, as if his chair was completely empty. He felt a small smile play across his lips. Damn, he was getting good at handling spirit—with the exception of last night, that is.

Lissa flinched as Dashkov's eyes locked on her. He nodded a greeting to her, and for a moment, Adrian thought Rose was going to spring out of her seat and attack the man. A moment later the tension left her face and she glanced at Lissa—apparently she was trying to calm Rose down through their bond. Thank God Victor was walking away, off to take his seat on the left side of the room.

He tilted his head, confirming that he'd been correct. He sat slightly angled in his chair, so he'd be able to see the accused face. His eyes darted back—as always—to Rose, who was whispering something to Lissa. When he glanced at Belikov, not surprisingly, the man was staring at the back of Rose's head. Rolling his eyes, Adrian smirked. God, the Russian was obvious.

His aunt entered with the usual fanfare—kneeling—it was such an enormous bore. No one could rise until she was seated, and she took her damned sweet time doing it, too. Finally she planted her ass, allowing everyone to reclaim their seats. He made a mental note that next time he was required to kneel he needed to cloak his presence and stay seated. It would be interesting to see if anyone noticed. If they did, he could always pretend to be drunk.

Finally the trial started, and one by one the witnesses were called forward. They all gave their testimony, swearing as to what they'd seen. It seemed to be mostly guardians, and Adrian was quickly becoming bored. He fingered the flask in his pocket, knowing that when his little dhampire took the stand, he'd need a drink. Just thinking about her testifying made him nervous.

Belikov was the last guardian they called to the stand. Initially, his testimony didn't vary from any of the previous tales they'd heard. But of course, there _was_ that one little problem that could rear its ugly head and bite him right between his legs.

"I was with my student, Rose Hathaway," he said. "She shares a bond with the princess and was the first to sense what had happened."

Victor's lawyer—an overweight Moroi who looked like he should be selling used cars—glanced at some papers, shuffling them as he looked back up at Dimitri. "Based on the events, it sounds like there was a delay between when she discovered that and when you alerted the others."

Belikov nodded, his face expressionless and totally composed. Adrian's leg started jiggling, bouncing up and down in a nervous rhythm. Shit, he'd expected to feel jittery when Rose was on the stand, not the Russian.

"She couldn't act on it because Mr. Dashkov had inflicted a charm on her, one that caused her to attack me." Adrian stared, amazed. Naturally he'd known Belikov would be forced to lie—he just hadn't expected the man to be so damned good at it. The only thing that gave away the fact he was lying was his aura. It pulsed with dismay and horror. It was killing a piece of his soul to lie under oath. Thank God no one could see what…

Adrian's eyes shot to Lissa, and he winced. She was studying the air around Dimitri with a confused expression on her face. Shit. He'd forgotten she'd gotten to the point she could see faint hints of auras. Especially if the person was experiencing strong emotion. Right now, Belikov's was glowing like a meteor. He'd have to think of something to tell her, something that led her in the wrong direction.

"Mr. Dashkov works with earth magic, and some who use that power and are strong in compulsion can influence our base instincts," continued Dimitri. "In this case, he affected her anger and violence through an object."

In the front row, Dashkov made a choking sound. Adrian glared at the man. This wasn't good. Not good at all. Fuck, Rose was going to get expelled. Belikov was going to end up shipped back to Siberia, and knowing Rose, she'd follow right along after him.

"Mr. Dashkov, please respect the decorum of this courtroom." The judge gave him a pointed look.

Victor, still smiling, waved his hands in apology. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Honor and Your Majesty. Something in Guardian Belikov's testimony just tickled my fancy, that's all. It won't happen again."

Dimitri finished his statement, and then Christian was called up. His part was short. He'd been with Lissa when she'd been taken and had been knocked out. His contribution was being able to ID some of Victor's guardians as the kidnappers. Once Christian sat down, it was Rose's turn. Adrian ducked down, taking a quick swig from his flask, just to take the edge off. He eyed Rose appreciatively. Damn, she even managed to make the guardian uniform look hot.

She walked up to the stand, staring straight ahead. She looked deceptively calm, but her aura was flashing like a strobe light. Her voice was strong as she stated her name and swore an oath to tell the truth. As soon as she uttered the words, dismay shot through her aura, just as it had Belikov's when he'd been forced to lie. That surprised Adrian, because Rose had told him numerous fibs, starting on the first night they'd met. He never would have expected it to bother her. His eyes flicked to Belikov as he realized it was probably her 'mentors' influence that had precipitated the change.

Her version was pretty forthright—she had details to offer from before the night of the kidnapping, like about when Victor had laid his sick traps to test Lissa's power. The rest of it matched up with the version given by Belikov and the other guardians'.

She was an excellent liar, speaking about the "attack" charm so smoothly that no one even paid attention. She made the mistake of glancing at Dashkov while discussing the charm, and a small smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. Adrian felt the burning desire to chunk his flask at the back of the man's head. Rose, surprisingly kept her cool, her expression a mirror image of Belikov's. She exited the stand, her eyes flicking to Dimitri's for a moment before she tore them away. As she claimed her seat, he noticed the Russian leaning forward slightly at the same time she leaned back. What the fuck was it with those two? Did they really not realize they did that?

Lissa offered the first variation in the story, and Adrian, for one was glad. He was tired of hearing the same boring tale repeated a gazillion times. As he listened and watched, everyone got caught up in what she said, hanging on every word she said. He realized almost instantly that without even trying, Lissa was using her spirit-induced charisma. He recognized it because he had it too. It worked on everyone. Well, everyone except Rose, that is.

People were enraptured and sympathetic as Lissa described the torture Victor had used to force her to heal him. Several of the spectators looked shocked. Even his aunt's mask faltered, her eyes filling with pity as she imagined what Lissa must have felt.

Lissa stayed calm and poised throughout her delivery, and Adrian felt proud of how well she was hiding the turmoil that she was feeling. As composed as she was on the outside, her aura showed that internally, her emotions were in absolute chaos. As she described how Victor's sidekick had tortured her, she relived every second of the pain and anguish she'd felt that night. The guy had been an air user, and he'd toyed with that element, sometimes taking it away so she couldn't breathe and at other times smothering her with it. Judging by the light show around Rose, she was reliving it as well, through their bond. God, he wished there were some way he could have five minutes alone with Dashkov. When Lissa was allowed to reclaim her seat, her relief was instantaneous.

Finally, it was Victor's turn. From the look on his face, you never would have guessed he was on trial—he acted as if he were at a party, and this was all some elaborate game. He spoke as though he made perfect sense, answering each question with a smug smile on his face. When the prosecuting attorney asked why he'd done what he had, he looked at her as though she were crazy.

"Why, I had no choice," he said pleasantly. "I was dying. No one was going to condone me openly experimenting with the princess's powers. What would you have done in my place?"

The lawyer ignored his question. Her face expressed her disgust for the man in front of her, and the same went for almost every spectator in the room.

"And you found coaxing your own daughter into turning Strigoi also necessary?" She asked.

Everyone in the courtroom shifted uncomfortably. The fact that Natalie Dashkov had willingly chosen to kill another person and, in doing so, destroyed all the magic and life within herself was a sickening thought. His eyes darted to Christian, wincing as he saw the sorrowful look on the boy's face. Christian's parents had made the same choice, but for a very different reason. They'd wanted to be immortal, no matter the cost. Victor's daughter Natalie had done it because he had talked her into it. The extra strength and speed she'd gotten from being a Strigoi had helped her free him, and he'd felt his goals were worth the sacrifice.

Again, Victor showed no remorse. His answer was simple. "Natalie made that decision."

"Can you say that about everyone you used to meet your ends? Guardian Belikov and Miss Hathaway had no say in what you made them do."

Shit. Adrian ducked down, pulling on his flask. Here we go.

Victor chuckled. "Well, that's a matter of opinion. I honestly don't think they minded. But if you have time after this case, Your Honor, you might want to consider trying a statutory rape case."

Holy hell fire. His flask slipped through his fingers, clattering loudly on the marble floor beneath his feet. He'd done it. The bastard had actually outed them. Adrian's eyes flicked between Belikov and Rose, praying they'd remain calm. They were both frozen in place, backs stiff, their faces emotionless. He let his eyes wander. No one was looking at them, everyone in the room was staring at Dashkov, their faces appalled at what he'd said. He unfocused his eyes, taking in the surrounding auras in a rush. No one believed it. Not a single person. He sank back, sighing with relief.

The judge chastised Victor for getting off topic. By that point, most of the questioning was done. The lawyers wrapped up, and it was time for the queen to deliver her verdict. Dashkov hadn't denied any of the charges. The evidence was overwhelming, thanks to everyone's testimonies. Adrian sat up, confident his aunt would make the right decision.

And she did. Victor was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison—a different prison, not the one at Court. Victor remained calm and amused throughout it all. A gesture from Tatiana ended formalities. Everyone except Adrian stood up and began talking. His aunt surveyed the room with a sharp eye, glaring pointedly in his direction. Shit. Apparently he wasn't as good at cloaking as he'd thought. He stood, making his way around the outskirts of the room, coming up behind his group of friends. Victor's escort began to lead him out, and as he passed by Lissa and Rose, he paused.

"Vasilisa, I trust you've been well."

The only response he got from her was a hate filled glare.

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk, but I'm sure we will next time," he added.

"Come on," said one of the guardians with him. They led him away.

"He's crazy," muttered Lissa once he was gone. "I can't believe he said that stuff about you and Dimitri."

Dimitri was standing behind Lissa—Rose looked up, their eyes fusing as he moved past them. Both their auras—glowing and rubbing each other, as usual—showed their relief. Damn they were lucky.

Christian embraced Lissa, holding her in his arms, trying to offer her comfort. Rose watched them with a soft look on her face, which was surprising, considering the fact that she and Christian fought like cats and dogs. Adrian reached out, gently touching her arm, hoping she wouldn't get pissed at him for doing it.

"You okay, little dhampir?" he asked softly. "Dashkov said a few … uh … suggestive things."

She stepped closer, keeping her voice low. "No one believed him. I think it's okay. Thanks for asking, though."

He smiled and tapped her nose. "Two thank-yous in as many days. I don't suppose I'll get to see any, uh, special gratitude?"

She scoffed at the thought. "Nope. You'll just have to imagine it."

He gave her a hug, releasing her before she protested. "Fair enough. But I have a good imagination."

The group started to leave when Priscilla hurried over to Lissa. "The queen would like to meet with you before you leave. In private."

Rose glanced over to the raised chair where the queen sat. Her gaze was fixed on the group, her eyes narrowed with displeasure. Adrian had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that grew worse when her eyes flicked to him, then again to Rose. She pursed her lips so tightly that they were a thin white line. Oh God. What now?

"Sure," Lissa said, her voice confused.

Adrian slipped away as quickly as possible. He'd grown up here, there were a million hidey holes he'd discovered as a boy, some that no one knew about except he and his grandmother. He slipped through the hallways, hurrying towards his aunt's formal parlor. Something was up, and he was damn sure going to find out what, preferably before the shit hit the proverbial fan.


	30. Unforgivable

The room next to his aunt's formal parlor had been sealed off decades ago, before Tatiana had even been named queen. Not sealed off as in a locked or barred door—sealed off meaning the locked door had been boarded over and then plastered, so it's existence had been forgotten. As far as he knew, no one at court was aware that there was a secondary entrance—one that, to the best of his knowledge, was still accessible.

He counted off the doorways as he passed them—he hadn't attempted this little trick since he was seven years old. He'd been searching for a place to hide from his father due to one of the man's never ending tirades, and his grandmother had found him running down the hall, trying not to cry. She'd ushered him into the room, pointed out the hiding spot, and left him to discover what was hidden beyond the small, dark hole.

He stopped outside the fourth door, praying he'd remembered correctly. Yes. It was a storage room, full of a centuries worth of useless crap the palace staff thought too valuable to throw away. He shut the door behind him and locked it before turning on the lights. Walking to the far side of the room, he tugged a huge armoire away from the wall, then knelt to run his fingers along the baseboard. As if by magic, a large, rectangle slid back, revealing a small dark hole. He grimaced. It was going to be a tight squeeze. If—God forbid—he got stuck, no one would know where he was. He'd never have attempted this had it not been for the dangerous look Tatiana had shot at his little dhampire. She was planning something, and he needed to know what in order to properly avert it. Angling his long, lean body, he squeezed through the hole, biting his lip as he felt something small run across his cheek. Once he'd managed to get his entire torso through the opening he stood up, heading into the narrow passageway, using his cigarette lighter as a miniscule torch. The passageway wasn't long, only spanning the distance of the two rooms that stood between the storage room and the sealed room. When he reached the end he released a huge sigh, hurrying over to the tiny pinholes he'd discovered so many years before.

"Excellent," said Tatiana. "We'll see that the arrangements are made. You may go now."

Damn it, he'd missed the entire meeting. Lissa was being dismissed. Cursing himself internally, he yanked at a handful of hair, wondering what had been said. As he squinted, peering through the tiny peephole, Lissa bowed and scurried to the door. Tatiana suddenly called out to her.

"Vasilisa? Will you send your friend here to talk to me? The Hathaway girl?"

Adrian stared at his aunt, feeling the first faint traces of anger. Whatever she was about to do was something that just might change their relationship forever. He loved his aunt, but...

"Rose?" Lissa asked. "Why do you—? Yes, of course. I'll get her."

A few minutes later, his Rosebud entered the room, a confused expression on her beautiful face. Tatiana standing with her hands clasped, posture stiff and impatient. Rose bowed, glancing around the room. His aunt stalked over to her, an angry scowl on her face.

"Miss Hathaway," she said sharply, "I'm going to keep this brief. You are going to stop this atrocious affair you're having with my great-nephew. Immediately."

Fuck a duck. This was not good.

"I…What?" Rose sputtered.

"You heard me. I don't know how far things have gone, and honestly, I really don't want to know the details. That's not the point. The point is that it's going to go no farther."

"Um, Your Majesty … there's been some kind of mistake. There's nothing going on between Adrian and me."

He groaned. He'd already tried that. It wasn't going to work. He realized he should have taken the time to listen to Augustine's gossip earlier. Maybe then he'd have some idea how bad this might get. As it was, he was fighting back the urge to burst into the parlor and defend Rose's honor.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" The queen asked.

He saw Rose's expression, and knew what she was thinking. His mind whirled with panic. For once, Rose needed to keep her smart mouth shut, and seal any and all sarcastic comments inside. If she even hinted at what she was thinking, Tatiana will destroy her.

"No, Your Majesty."

"Well, that's a start. There's no point in lying to me. People have seen you together, here and back at your school. I saw you myself in the courtroom. I've heard all the illicit details about what's going on, and it is going to stop right here, right now. Adrian Ivashkov is not going to run off with some cheap dhampir girl, so you might as well rid yourself of that delusion right now."

What the hell? He felt his anger growing with every passing second. How dare Tatiana speak to Rose like that! She may not be a Royal Moroi, but in his opinion, she was worth more than any of the girls he knew.

"I never thought he was going to—seeing as how we're not involved," Rose said. "I mean, we're friends, that's all. He likes me. He's a flirt. And if you want to talk illicit stuff, then…yeah, I'm pretty sure he's got a list of illicit things he'd like to do with me. Lots of illicit things. But we're not doing them. Your Majesty."

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the expression on his aunts face. Why couldn't she have just left it at 'we're friends'? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a wave of happiness pushing his anger down. Rose had just said they were friends!

"I know about you," Tatiana said. "All anyone talks about are your recent awards and accolades, but I haven't forgotten that it was you who took Vasilisa away. I also know about the trouble you used to get into—I know about the drinking, about the men. If it was up to me, I'd pack you up and send you off to some blood whore commune. You'd probably fit in well."

Over his dead body. If anyone tried to turn Rose into a blood whore, he'd… Well, elopement sounded pretty damn good to him, it was just a matter of convincing his little dhampire. And getting rid of Belikov, of course.

"But," she continued, "your recent… achievements make sending you away impossible. Everyone believes you have some glorious future ahead of you. Maybe you do. Regardless, if I can't stop you from being a guardian, I can affect whose guardian you are."

Rose bristled. "What are you saying? Are you threatening me?"

"I'm just saying I have a great interest in Vasilisa's future, that's all. And if I have to protect her from corrupting influences, I will. We can find her another guardian. We can find you another Moroi."

"You can't do that!" Rose exclaimed. "I'm not doing anything with Adrian. Really. You can't punish me for something I'm not doing. Your Majesty."

"I don't want to punish you at all, Rose. I just want to make sure we understand each other. Moroi men don't marry dhampir girls. They play with them. Every girl thinks it's going to be different with her—even your mother did with Ibrahim, but she was wrong too."

"With who?" Rose asked. Ibrahim? Why did that sound familiar to him? Who the hell was Ibrahim?

"They're always wrong. And you can try your hardest to change that, but it's a waste of time." She gave Rose a smug smile. "You can use your pretty face and easy body as much as you want, but in the end, you're the one who'll get used. He may say he loves you now, but in the end, he'll get tired of you. Save yourself the grief. I'm doing you a favor."

With that, Tatiana destroyed something in Adrian that she could never repair. Even though he'd denied his feelings, his aunt knew the truth she'd seen it in his eyes a few days ago. He was in love with Rose—and she'd just destroyed any chance he might have had to win her affection. Uttering that one hateful sentence, 'He may say he loves you now, but in the end, he'll get tired of you' reaffirmed every unfair thought Rose had ever had about him—it drove home all the half-truths and rumors, labeling him a heart breaker and a user. For that, he'd never forgive Tatiana.

"But he isn't saying he loves—Look, if you're so certain we can't have a future together, then why are you telling me this? According to you, he's going to throw me away anyway. Your Majesty."

"I like to take care of things before they become messy, that's all. Besides, it's going to make things easier for him and Vasilisa if they aren't dragging around baggage from you."

His head snapped up at that, his pain momentarily shoved on the back burner.

"Him and… Vasilisa? Lissa? What are you talking about?"

"The two of them are an excellent match," she said.

Adrian clenched his fists so tight that his fingernails bit into his palms. She was talking as if they were a pair of dogs, matching up their pedigrees to produce an acceptable litter.

"Despite your bad influence, Vasilisa's grown into a very promising young woman. She has a very serious, very dedicated nature that will cure some of his recklessness. And being together would allow them to continue examining their…unusual magical situation."

"Lissa and Adrian. Together. You can't be serious. Your Majesty." Rose's voice was dangerously close to mocking.

"If they're both here together, I think they'll come around to it. They already have a certain charisma around each other. Plus, both of Adrian's grandmothers came from branches of the Dragomir family. He has more than enough blood to help her carry on the Dragomir line."

Except auntie dearest, you're not considering his _feelings. _He glared at the wall, wondering how his aunt would react if he told her he'd chose to become a monk, living a life of celibacy and self-denial before he'd marry Lissa. She was like a sister to him, for Christ's sake!

"So does Christian Ozera."

"Christian Ozera?" Tatiana's smile looked like a grimace. "There is no way Vasilisa Dragomir is going to marry him."

"Well, yeah. Not anytime soon. I mean, they're going to go to college and—"

"Not now, not ever," interrupted Tatiana. "The Dragomirs are an ancient and exalted line of royalty. Their last descendent is not going to attach herself to someone like him."

"He's royal," Rose said, her voice dropping. She sounded dangerously close to blowing her stack. "The Ozera line is every bit as important as the Dragomirs and Ivashkovs. He's royal, just like Lissa, like Adrian, and like you."

She snorted. "He is not like us. Yes, the Ozeras are one of the royal houses, and yes, he has several respectable distant cousins. But we aren't talking about them. We're talking about the son of someone who purposely became a Strigoi. Do you know how many times that's happened in my lifetime? Nine. Nine in fifty years. And his parents were two of them."

"Yes—his parents," Rose stated. "Not him."

"It doesn't matter. The Dragomir princess cannot associate with someone like him. That position is simply too prestigious."

"But your nephew is the perfect choice," She said bitterly. "Your Majesty."

"If you're such a smart girl, then you tell me—back at St. Vladimir's, how are they treated? How do your classmates view Christian? How do they view Christian and Vasilisa together?"

"Fine," she said. "They have lots of friends."

"And Christian is fully accepted?"

Rose paused, and that was her undoing.

"You see?" Tatiana exclaimed. "And that's just a microcosm of society. Imagine it on a bigger scale. Imagine how it'll be when she's active in the government and trying to get others to support her. He'll be a liability. She'll make enemies just because of him. Do you really want that to happen to her?"

"It won't happen. You're wrong."

"And you're very young, Miss Hathaway. You're also delaying your flight." She moved toward the door. The guardians across the room were by her side in the blink of an eye. "I have nothing more to say and hope this will be the last time we ever have a discussion like this."

She left the room and a few minutes later, Rose sprinted out the door.

Adrian made his way back through the passageway, his ire growing with every step he took. By the time he reached the storeroom, reality had slipped to the wayside, and sanity was a distant memory. He slammed out of the room, and set off in search of his aunt, the Queen.


	31. Delirium

By the time he found her, he was hanging onto his temper by the thinnest of threads. The slightest thing would snap it, making him lose complete control. He knew this, however, he didn't give a damn.

She was in her private room, the one where they'd spent a brief amount of time catching up only a few days before. The guardians station outside the door tried to stop him from entering—they were… unsuccessful. He was in the grasp of spirit's madness; it took the smallest conscious effort for him to compel them, bending them to his will. Tatiana, his aunt, his Queen, sat in her over-sized recliner, eyes closed, her head resting against its padded back. He stopped, just inside the door, not trusting himself to approach her.

"Your Majesty." He said, his voice heavy with hostility and sarcasm.

Her eyes snapped open; for a moment she looked shocked at the tone of voice he'd used with her. She recovered quickly, her lips curving up in the smile she kept reserved just for him. "Adrian. Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave with the others?

He glared at her from across the room. How could she sit there and act as though she hadn't just destroyed everything he'd worked so long—so hard!—to achieve? "You had to do it, didn't you? You had to threaten her."

Tatiana's face hardened, her lip curling as her smile turned mocking. "Let me guess. The little blood whore came crying to you about the wicked queen."

That's all it took. The thread snapped under the weight of her words—her insult against the one he placed above all others. He was across the room in a flash.

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!" He screamed, inches away from her face.

The Queen of the Moroi world pressed herself against the back of the chair, her eyes darting to the door. Wondering, perhaps, why her loyal guardians had not come charging in like the cavalry. Her eyes flicked back to Adrian, realizing, at once, that he wasn't himself.

"Adrian, darling—"

"You ruined it. She was my friend, and you ruined it. Do you know how long it took me to get that much from her?" He cocked his head, waiting for an answer. When it didn't come, he demanded one. "DO YOU?"

"You're not yourself right now. This behavior is… unacceptable."

He spun away from her, laughing. The sound emerging from him was one not normally heard outside the walls of a madhouse. Tatiana's eyes widened as she watched him pacing—he closed his eyes, tugging at his hair as he mumbled under his breath in a frenzied manner.

He stopped, his chest heaving , eyes still closed as his head twitched in a disconcerting manner. "Why? Why did you do it?"

"The rumors. They're—"

"Just that. Rumors." His voice was husky, almost a whisper. "She was my friend. The first person who didn't like me because I was an Ivashkov. She didn't want anything to do with me, or my money or my family. But I tried. Oh, dear God, I tried. Finally, yesterday, she accepted my friendship, and you destroyed it." He opened his eyes and they locked onto hers like laser beams. "You destroyed me. And any love I had for you."

Her face, normally so stern and unyielding, crumpled—he chin quivering as she struggled to hide how his words wounded her. "No. Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth." He closed his eyes again, tilting his head, as if listening to a sound that only he could hear. "I will never court Vasilisa. Never. I'll let the madness take me first. Will that make you happy, Majesty?"

"Adrian," she said, worry evident in her voice, "I think you need a drink."

His eyes shot open, full of emotion. "I do not need a fucking drink!" He stalked towards her, glaring. "What I need is to be allowed to choose my own friends! What I need is to live my own life!"

He slammed his hands down on the arms of her chair, his nails gripping the fabric as he struggled to reign in his anger. He was fighting the urge to choke the life out of the woman before him. A woman that he had always loved like a second mother. His chest was heaving, his jaw tense as he stared into her eyes from mere inches away. "What I need is to be happy, for once in my miserable life. Being Rose's friend made me happy."

She studied his face, and he read her emotions, not only in her aura but in her eyes. Her earlier fear had been replaced by painful sorrow the instant he'd denied loving her. This was her prize—the child she'd never had. She recognized he was struggling with the mania that plagued him, and it filled her with worry. He thought of losing Rose and hot tears filled his eyes; a blink sent them spilling down his pale, smooth cheeks.

"Oh Adrian. Don't. Please don't." Her arms snaked around him, pulling her close, stroking his hair as she had done so many times when he was a small boy in need of comfort.

"She keeps me sane, Auntie. She's my touchstone, and you ruined it."

"If I allow you to be… friends with her, would you do something for me?" She asked.

"What?" He pulled away, wiping at his cheeks. The outpouring of emotions had relieved some of the turmoil within him, helping him regain a hint of control.

"Attend social functions with Vasilisa. Let people think you are courting her. I can't allow rumors to continue circulating about you and the Hathaway girl. Just this morning, Magnus Conta asked if I wanted your baby to be a boy or a girl."

Adrian laughed, and this time it sounded almost normal. "I've never even kissed her. She's in love with… someone else."

"Regardless, the rumors must stop. If you do as I ask, I'll look the other way where your _friendship _is concerned. For now."

He nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I lost control."

"I know. I love you Adrian. I'm only trying to do what's best for you. Have a drink, then you'd better go, you have a plane to catch."

He complied, all the while thinking that what was best for him was Rosemarie Hathaway. He prayed that someday she'd realize it.


	32. Leaving on a Jet Plane

Approaching the runway, he recognized the three figures just ahead of him, walking slowly towards the small group waiting to board the plane. Lissa, apparently spotting her boyfriend, broke away to join him, leaving Rose and Belikov alone.

He watched them, noticing how as soon as Lissa left their presence they slowed even more, as if cherishing a brief stolen moment—albeit a public one—together. With each step their bodies moved closer, until their arms brushed against each other, each sneaking a glance at the other from time to time. The group by the plane was clueless as to what was happening, each one lost in their own thoughts or chatter.

Rose looked up, saying something that made him stop several feet away from the gathering.

They spoke softly for a few minutes, and then he smiled down at her, his face full of tenderness.

It made Adrian want to puke.

Belikov's laughter drew a few questioning glances from the other guardians—glances that Alberta noticed, a worried look to flashing across her face. The two lovebirds didn't notice of course, too wrapped up in whatever they were discussing to notice the world around them.

He stomped past them, shooting them an evil look, and began to complain about having to stand around waiting in the cold. Even his loud ranting didn't manage to break apart their disgusting little love fest. They kept right on murmuring back and forth, their heads leaning closed together with every passing minute. Alberta's worried look had intensified, because the assembled guardians' attention was still focused on Belikov and Rose and the soft, lingering looks they were giving each other.

The flight attendant opened the door, indicating they could commence boarding, and Adrian saw his chance to capture the attention that was focused on the twosome. Letting out a loud whoop, he made a display of himself, chattering away senselessly about being able to board.

It obviously worked—the guardians all glared at him, Belikov and Rose forgotten, for the moment. As soon as he was on the plane he demanded—and almost immediately received—a tumbler of scotch. He was still feeling lingering traces of spirit, and that—coupled with the irritation he'd felt when witnessing the little display Belikov and Rose had put on—could mean trouble. Especially once they became airborne. It wouldn't be good if he drifted into lala land at 30,000 feet.

He realized Lissa had been rambling for a few minutes, regaling everyone with the latest exciting news. When she announced the Queen had requested an audience with Rose, for the sole purpose of 'praising' her, he glanced at Rose, confused. Why hadn't she confided in Lissa? Surely she'd warn her best friend about the Queens little plan, to say nothing about the threats she'd made. Rose's face was expressionless, giving nothing away, even when their eyes met. Interesting. Maybe she was keeping it a secret so as not to burst her best friend's happy bubble.

Lissa then told them about the offer to live at Court and go to college at Lehigh. "I still can't believe it," she mused. "It sounds too good to be true."

Adrian emptied his glass, indicating to the flight attendant he needed another. "Coming from my great-aunt? It is too good to be true." He took the drink from the girl with a nod of thanks.

"What do you mean?" Rose asked. "Is Lissa in trouble?"

"What, bodily? Nah. It's just, my great-aunt doesn't do things out of the kindness of her heart. Well," he amended, "sometimes she does. She's not a total bitch. And I think she means it about worrying about the Dragomirs. I've heard she liked your parents. But as to why she's doing this … I don't know. You've got radical ideas. Maybe she does want to hear different opinions. Or maybe she wants to keep an eye on you, keep you from causing trouble."

Christian looked pissed. "He's right. They could be trying to rein you in. You should go live with Aunt Tasha. You don't have to go to a Moroi school."

"But she'll be safer if she does," Rose offered.

She looked like she was about to say something more, but as the plane took off, gaining altitude, her face wrinkled up in a grimace. A quick scan of her aura showed she was in pain—again.

"Son of a bitch," she groaned, putting her hand to her forehead.

"You're sick again?" asked Lissa, worried. Rose nodded.

"Have you always had trouble flying?" He asked, gesturing for someone to refill his drink. If he could still see auras, he definitely needed more lubrication. Maybe he should switch to Patròn—tequila might work faster.

"Never," Rose said. "Damn it. I don't want to go through this again." Her jaw tensed as she squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head lean against the window.

He watched her, wishing he could do something to alleviate her pain. He couldn't—if Lissa's powerhouse healing mojo didn't work, then his meager skills would be absolutely useless. His eyes shifted as he turned around, locking with a fierce brown gaze that was shooting daggers at him. Belikov obviously didn't like him looking at Rose. Too damn bad. As far as he was concerned, the Russian could take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. He chuckled, imagining what the expression on the other man's face would be if he'd actually voiced his thoughts aloud. With that pleasant image in his head, he leaned back, drifting into a light doze.

The sound of Alberta's voice jerked him awake a few hours later. She'd claimed the seat across the aisle from him again—apparently they were best friends now. "What's wrong?"

"An ice storm just blew through the area," the flight attendant answered. "We can't land at St. Vladimir's because the runway isn't accessible with the ice and the winds. We need fuel, however, so we're going to land at Martinville Regional. It's a small airport a few hours away by car, but they weren't as affected as much. Our plan is to land there, refuel, and then fly into the Academy once they've cleared the runway. It's less than an hour by air."

He sighed in frustration as he buckled himself in, preparing for landing. What the hell else could go wrong today?

As soon as the plane touched the ground, he had his answer. His little dhampir whimpered, jerking his head around. Her eyes were flicking from side to side, wide and fearful, like a terrified horse.

"Rose?" He struggled with his seat belt, trying to unbuckle it. "You okay?"

She let out the most blood curdling scream imaginable, followed by another, and kept on screaming.

"Make them go away!" She yelled. "Make them go away!"

Her hands clawed at her seat belt, and she jerked upright, waving her arms as she screamed, begging someone to help her. By the time he—and of course Belikov—reached her side, she'd collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

He paced the hallway outside of Alberta's dorm room. It had been hell, waiting for Rose to wake up. She remained unconscious until they were in the air again, and then she seemed to drift in and out, making small whimpers or thrashing about. He'd tried to contact her in a dream, but she wasn't dreaming. Or else he'd indulged in so much damned alcohol he was useless—which was probably the case.

Belikov had stationed himself beside her the entire time, not letting Adrian approach her. When the Russian _growled _at him, Alberta intervened, dragging Adrian back to his seat. She'd probably been afraid the two men would start snapping at each other like male dogs fighting over a bitch in heat.

Upon landing, Belikov had immediately scooped Rose up and run for the clinic—with Alberta following on his heels, trying to keep up with his abnormally long strides.

Poor Lissa was in a panic, not even Christian seemed able to console her. Finally, Adrian had saved the day, sending her to her room with the promise he'd find out what was happening. He knew better than to go near the clinic—Belikov would throw him out—so here he waited, dying for a cigarette, praying that his little Rosebud would be alright.


	33. Slip Up

After waiting for what felt like hours, he reached his breaking point. He could not go _one more minute _without a cigarette. He made his way through the empty building, promising himself he'd be quick. Just a few puffs to hold him over. Surely Alberta would retire to her room soon, the woman had to sleep sometime, didn't she? Hell, maybe he should have staked out her office instead.

Stepping around to the side of the building—away from the large no smoking side beside the entrance—he was just about to light up when something caught his attention. Familiar voices were speaking softly nearby. All thoughts about his nicotine craving evaporated as he pulled on spirit, sending into his aura, then gathered it around him, muting his presence. He crept through the trees that lined the pathway, ignoring the half melted puddles of ice and snow. They were walking slowly in the middle of the path, Rose's voice pulled him forward, almost against his will.

"Thanks for thinking of the half-time thing," she said.

Belikov came to an abrupt stop, pivoting his body so he blocked the path. Rose stopped abruptly, nearly running into him, struggling to maintain her balance. His hand shot out, clutching her arm and jerking her against his chest. Adrian stared at them wide eyed. What the fuck was that crazy Russian doing? Someone could walk by at any moment!

"Rose," he said, his voice sounding tortured, "this shouldn't have been the first time I heard about this! Why didn't you tell me? Do you know what it was like? Do you know what it was like for me to see you like that and not know what was happening? Do you know how scared I was?"

In the shadows, Adrian rolled his eyes. Everyone was scared. Everyone was worried. Belikov just didn't give anyone else a chance to be near her. Asshole.

Rose's mouth dropped open as she stared at him in shock. "You're not scared of anything."

"I'm scared of lots of things. I was scared for you." He let go of her arm and she immediately took a step back. "I'm not perfect. I'm not invulnerable."

"I know, it's just…" She trailed off, looking… confused.

"And this has been going on for a long time too," Dimitri added. "It was going on with Stan, when you were talking to Father Andrew about ghosts—you were dealing with it this whole time! Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell Lissa … or … me?"

She stared at him, a worried expression on her face. "Would you have believed me?"

He frowned. "Believed what?"

"That I'm seeing ghosts."

"Well… they aren't ghosts, Rose. You only think they are because—"

"That's why!" She cut him off mid-sentence. "That's why I couldn't tell you or anybody. Nobody would believe me, not without thinking I'm crazy."

She wasn't crazy—he could attest to that. He knew crazy up close and personal. She was as sane as they come, despite all the shit she'd dealt with lately. Maybe he should tell her that. Later.

"I don't think you're crazy," Belikov said. "But I think you've been through a lot."

"It's more than that." She started walking again, appearing almost anxious to get away from her beloved mentor.

Without even taking a step, he reached out and grabbed her again, pulling her back towards him, almost embracing her. "Tell me then," he said. "Tell me how it's more than that."

"You won't believe me. Don't you get it? No one will. Even you … of all people." She sounded as if she were about to cry.

Adrian shifted, leaning against a tree, something ticking his brain. Something he'd heard recently, that this conversation reminded him of. But what was it? He rubbed the filter of a cigarette against his lips, not lighting it, merely enjoying the sweet tingle of the cloves against his skin. Who had said it? It was about death… dead things…

"Well, at first I thought I was imagining it all. But now… I don't know. There's something about it that feels real… even though I know that isn't actually evidence. But you heard what Father Andrew said—about ghosts sticking around after they die young or violently."

Dimitri bit his lip. "So you think Mason's back for revenge?"

"I thought that at first, but now I'm not so sure. He's never tried to hurt me. He just seems like he wants something. And then … all those other ghosts seemed to want something too—even the ones I didn't know. Why?"

Victor fucking Dashkov. What was it he'd said? 'Those who visit the world of the dead can probably never fully shake their connection to it—I'm sure the more you deal death out, the closer you'll become to it.' Again the words echoed, sounding almost like the tolling of a bell in his head. The more you deal death… The more you deal death. Shit. It was because of Spokane. He stared at Rose, wanting to step forward and shout out that he knew—he understood—but he couldn't. She'd never forgive him for eavesdropping.

Dimitri was watching her. "You have a theory."

"I do. I was thinking about what Victor said. He mentioned that because I'm shadow-kissed—because I died— I have a connection to the world of the dead. That I'll never entirely leave it behind me."

Good girl, Rosebud. Great minds think alike, and all that rot. Now how do we stop it? An exorcism?

Belikov's expression hardened. "I wouldn't put a lot of stock in what Victor Dashkov tells you."

"But he knows things! You know he does, no matter how big an asshole he is."

"Okay, supposing that's true, that being shadow-kissed lets you see ghosts, why is it happening now? Why didn't it happen right after the car accident?"

"I thought of that," she offered, sounding excited. "It was something else Victor said—that now that I was dealing in death, I was that much closer to the other side. What if causing someone else's death strengthened my connection and now makes this possible? I just had my first real kill. Kills, even."

"Why is it so haphazard?" asked Dimitri. "Why does it occur when it does? Why the airplane? Why not at Court?"

Her excitement faltered. "What are you, a lawyer? You question everything I'm saying. I thought you were going to have an open mind."

"I am. But you need to too. Think about it. Why this pattern of sightings?"

"I don't know," she sighed slumping her shoulders and staring at the ground. "You still think I'm crazy."

He reached out, cupping her chin, tipping her face up to look at his. "No. Never. Not one of these theories makes me think you're crazy. But I've always believed the simplest explanation makes sense. Dr. Olendzki's does. The ghost one has holes. But, if you can find out more…then we may have something to work with."

Adrian bit his tongue in frustration. Did the man always have to insert himself into every nuance or Rose's life? Jesus—would he ever catch a break? He believed every word she said, damn it!

"We?" Rose asked.

"Of course. I'm not leaving you alone on this, no matter what. You know I'd never abandon you."

"And I won't ever abandon you, you know. I mean it… not that this stuff ever happens to you, of course, but if you start seeing ghosts or anything, I'll help you through it."

He gave a small, soft laugh. "Thanks."

Their hands met, fingers lacing together, right there out in the open. They stood staring into each others eyes, the world around them forgotten the instant they toughed. What the hell? Adrian turned around, storming back towards the Guardians dorms. They acted as if someone had cast a damn love spell on them or something—this was more than just residual effects from one passionate night and a lust charm. There had to be some way to make her realize—to make her see that Belikov wasn't the guy for her. He was so lost in his black thoughts that he plowed into Alberta as she made her way to her room.

"Lord Ivashkov? Are you lost?"

"No, I was… Originally I was planning on asking how Rose was doing…"

Alberta looked amused. "Do I hear a 'but' coming?"

"She's telling the truth you know—about the ghosts."

"I'm sure she thinks she is, but—"

"Petrov, I see auras, remember? It's the truth. Why is that so hard to buy?"

She raised a pale eyebrow. "Because ghosts don't exist."

He laughed. "You've got someone on campus that can heal—not to mention she can raise the dead. I myself can enter peoples dream and see auras. And you have trouble believing in ghosts?"

He turned to leave, then thought better of it, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. "Do you know where Rose is right now?"

"Guardian Belikov was escorting her to her dorm."

Adrian leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you thought that was a good decision, after their display up at the airstrip earlier? Not to mention his rather... possessive behavior on the plane?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Guardian Belikov is trustworthy, Ivashkov. He won't slip up. I know him. He'll wait until—"

He cut her off. "You're right, of course. Embracing her, then holding hands with her in the middle of the walkway right outside the dorms where anyone could glance out the window and see isn't a slip up. It's a complete and utter fuck up."

"That could simply be a mentor comforting a student who's had a trying experience. Everyone saw what Rose went though today." She argued.

"Ahhh, but you forget, I can see what he dreams about. It's not all hearts, flowers and sweet, young 'G" rated romance, no matter what you might think. When Belikov dreams about Rose, it's definitely for mature audiences only."

Alberta's mouth dropped open. "You've been spying on his dreams? You have no right to invade his privacy like that!"

He winked at her, trying not to laugh at her indignant expression. Smiling suggestively, he ran his tongue across his full bottom lip before speaking. "Night, Guardian Alberta. Sweet dreams."

He was almost out the door when her voice floated down the hallway after him. "If you set one foot in my dreams Adrian Ivashkov, you won't make it out alive!"

He laughed to himself as he walked out into the night.


	34. Absorbing the Darkness

The next day, he forced himself to get up early. For once, he was actually looking forward to something. Meeting up with Lissa and practicing using spirit might take his mind off his rapidly growing depression. He knew what was causing the dark emotions, but there was nothing to be done about it. Until Rose was in his arms—and damn it, eventually she would be—he'd have to learn to live with it.

He met up with Lissa and her ever present posse in an empty classroom, greeting everyone pleasantly, with the exception of Rose—who he tried to ignore. The tiny intimacies he's witnessed between his little dhampir and Belikov the night before were still playing through his mind, and to be honest, it hurt. Somehow, those innocent touches tormented him more than the full on lip locks or make out sessions he'd witnessed in their dreams. He knew the reason behind his strange feelings—full on passion could be experienced by anyone, you didn't have to care about the person in the slightest to get physical with them. However, the gentle, caring caresses—the stolen moments holding hands—they indicated something that went so much deeper than just sexual desire.

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he felt a momentary twinge of guilt. She had a slightly hurt, puzzled expression on her face. He felt the overwhelming desire to look her way and smile, erasing his snub, but he couldn't do it. Right now, he could barely stand to look at her, even just these discrete, stolen glances killed him.

To make matters even more confusing, he realized this was partially his fault. He'd seen their auras, back at the lodge, and noted the emotions that raged between them. He had witnessed their dreams, and heard the whispered words of love they shared. But he'd chosen to ignore the evidence, believing—convincing himself—it was nothing more than a passing infatuation between an older man and a young, impressionable girl. It was getting harder and harder for him to believe the fantasy he'd constructed—the more he saw, the deeper into depression he sank.

Why did he have to fall in love with her? If on that first day—when he noticed the love and devotion in their auras—he'd turned away, accepting the inevitable and forcing Rose from his thoughts, would he still have been infatuated with her? Still wanted her? He thought so—this was somehow fated, in his opinion, and he'd see it through to the bitter end.

He stared off into space as Rose gave an abbreviated version of what she'd experienced the day before. Even the sound of her voice made his heart ache. He'd never let himself fall for a girl like this, and by God, he swore he never would again. Loving someone sucked. And loving someone who didn't love you back was excruciatingly painful.

"You think you saw ghosts?" Christian exclaimed, giving her a mocking look. "Seriously?"

"Look," Rose snapped, "I told you what was going on, but I don't want to elaborate on it. It's getting worked out, so just let it drop."

"Rose…" Lissa bit her lip, looking as if she were unsure how to continue.

Rose shook her head, a pained expression on her face. "No, Liss. Please. You guys can think whatever you want about me or make up your own theories, but we're not going to talk about it. Not now. Just leave me alone about it."

Her eyes shot to each one of friends in turn. After a moment, her face softened as she realized, perhaps, exactly how harsh her tone had been.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm just not in the mood."

Bet she'd be in the mood if it was Belikov wanting to talk about it, he thought to himself, heaving a deep sigh. She looked over at him, eyes narrowed, as if she could read his thoughts. He looked away, refusing to meet her eyes—her gorgeous brown eyes that had been gazing so lovingly at the damn pedophillic Russian last night.

As he and Lissa began to focus on the task at hand, Christian pulled two desks together and stretched out across them, tossing an arm over his eyes.

"Wake me when it gets interesting," he said.

Eddie and Rose took up positions that allowed them to watch the door and windows while also staying near their charges. Of course, she had somehow managed to position herself so that no matter where he looked, she was in his line of fucking vision. Be bit the inside of his cheek, pointedly turning his back on her.

"You really saw Mason?" Eddie whispered. "Sorry…you said you didn't want to talk about it…"

"I think it was him," Rose murmured back. "I don't know. Everyone thinks I imagined it."

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to turn around and scream 'I believe you, damn it! Not Belikov, ME—Adrian Ivashkov.' She wouldn't care. Not one damned bit.

"How did he look? Was he upset?" Eddie asked.

"He looked … sad. Really sad."

"If it was really him … I mean, I don't know. I've always wondered if he was upset that we didn't save him."

Their whispered conversation was getting on his last nerve. Using spirit—well, mastering it—required concentration. How the fuck was he supposed to concentrate when they stood there whispering like a couple of preteen girls?

"There was nothing we could have done," Rose said, her voice soft. "But I wondered that too, because Father Andrew had mentioned that ghosts sometimes come back for revenge. But Mason didn't look that way. He just seemed like he wanted to tell me something."

He stared down at the plants they'd set out—God, they looked pathetic, all withered and brown, the leaves crumbling off and leaving a mess on the tabletop. Lissa touched one, and a few seconds later, the ugly little brown plant turned green and sprouted leaves.

He studied it, watching it's miraculous transformation then exhaled deeply. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

He brushed his fingers on the plant closest to him, being careful so as not to knock off any of its withered leaves. At first, disappointment shot through him, because nothing actually happened. Then, a few moments later, the plant shuddered a little. A hint of green started to grow in it and then it stopped.

"You did it," said Lissa, impressed.

"Hardly," he said, glaring at the plant. Just that little jolt of spirit had hit him hard. He'd overdone it again last night—cloaking himself the way he had drained him. To top that off, he was completely sober, needed a fucking smoke and the nearby presence of Rose was like a knife in his chest. A surge of irritability slammed into him. "Damn it."

"Are you kidding?" she asked. "It was great. You made a plant grow— with your mind. That's amazing."

"Not as good as you, though," he said, feeling a flood of inadequacy wash over him, merging with the irritation.

Rose—being Rose—couldn't help but mouth off. "Then stop bitching and try again."

Ohhhh. She _so_ did not want to fuck with him today. Not with the mood he was in. If she pushed him too far, he might slip and say something about her precious cradle robber. Then all hell would break loose.

He glanced over at her with a smirk. "Hey, no advice, Ghost Girl. Guardians should be seen and not heard."

He pretended not to see her shoot the finger at him, acting as if he were totally absorbed in what Lissa was saying. From the corner of his eye he saw her aura flash with irritation. Poor Rosebud didn't like being ignored. Tough shit.

"She's right. Try it again," Lissa demanded.

"You do it one more time," he said. "I want to watch you…. I can kind of feel what you do to it."

He forced Rose out of his thoughts—an act which was, for him, extremely difficult—and focused on Lissa. His sixth sense was tingling again, warning him he had to learn this. Since this wasn't the first time he'd experienced the feeling, he knew that for whatever reason, it was important he become proficient in healing.

She performed her trick on another plant. He sensed the magic flare up as she pulled in spirit, but then it… faltered. Her aura flashed with fear and a tinge of the black madness that he was so familiar with. As he watched, the black slowly separated from her aura and began sliding away—shifting…

What the Fuck? The black threads of insanity undulated in the air, drifting across the table. Twisting and turning like a cloud of thick, oily smoke it reached out, fusing into the ever-present dark cloud that surrounded Rose, absorbed like water into a sponge.

No. Oh, God… No.

Rose glanced up, catching him as he stared at her. He tried to compose himself—to control his expression, but it wasn't working. He knew his face clearly showed the absolute shock and horror he felt. He'd been wrong. Wrong about the ghosts… Wrong about the—

"Okay." Lissa's happy voice tore his eyes away from poor Rose, breaking into his thoughts. "Try again."

As if he could concentrate on healing after what he'd just seen? Sighing, he moved to a new plant, but she gestured him back. "No, keep working on the one you started. Maybe you can only do it in small bursts."

Nodding, he turned his attention to his original plant. For a few minutes, all he did was stare, trying desperately to visualize his desired results. Thank God it was quiet—one word from Rose and his concentration would be shot. He felt beads of sweat trailing down his temples, but he forced himself to ignore them. Nothing mattered right now, except what he wanted to—no, what he _would_ accomplish. Finally, at long last, the plant twitched again. It grew even greener, and tiny buds appeared on it. Narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth he pulled in even more spirit, shoving it into the small plat. The buds burst. Leaves and tiny white flowers appeared.

Lissa cried out, whooping with joy.

"You did it!" She hugged him, and a burst of pride filled him. He'd done it. More importantly, this meant that _they_ could do it. He and Lissa could master new, untried abilities; they could pass the knowledge they learned between themselves, learning by example. Anything was possible now.

"I can't wait until I'm able to do something new," she said, sounding jealous.

Adrian tapped the black composition book that sat beside her. "Well, there are plenty of other tricks in the world of spirit. You've got to be able to learn at least one of them."

"What's that?" Rose asked.

"Remember that research I did on people who'd shown weird behaviors?" Lissa asked. "We made a list of all the different things that showed up."

Adrian's thoughts drifted to the contents of the notebook—rare abilities that had been demonstrated by Moroi that no one had ever seen. A few of the things—aura targeting, dream compulsion, remote viewing, reading thoughts—had immediately sparked his desire to learn more. Of course, those were the very things that Lissa had immediately decided were too dangerous or too… tempting. She feared they might get carried away and abuse their talents.

He shook his head, rejoining the conversation. "Along with healing, auras, and dream walking, we seem to also have some super compulsion going on." He omitted the skills that Lissa had forbidden—not that he actually planned to abide her verdict. When he'd read about those wicked little abilities, he'd felt the strangest… buzzing in his brain. He'd known instantly that they were all within his capabilities. His prime skills were dream and aura based, after all.

Rose rolled her eyes. "You already knew that."

"No, this is even more hard-core. It's not just telling people what to do. It's also making them see and feel things that aren't even there." He ached to test it out on her. Could he make her believe he was Belikov? The idea was so alluring—but he'd never actually give in to the desire. She'd tear him limb from limb if he tried it.

"What, like hallucinations?" She asked.

"Kind of," he replied, stretching. "There are stories of people using compulsion to make others live through their worst nightmares, thinking they're being attacked or whatever."

Rose shivered. "That's actually kind of scary."

"And awesome," said Adrian.

Lissa shot him a warning look and he tried to make his face look as innocent as possible. "I don't know. Regular compulsion is one thing, but that just seems wrong."

Christian yawned. "Now that victory has been achieved, can we call it a night with the magic?"

"Can you do it again?" asked Lissa eagerly. "Make it grow?"

Adrian shook his head. "Not right away. That took a lot out of me. I think I need a cigarette." He gestured in Christian's direction. "Go do something with your guy. He's been terribly patient through all of this."

Lissa walked over to Christian, her face alight with joy. "Let's go back to the dorm," she said, grabbing his hand.

Exiting the building, Eddie walked near guard with Lissa and Christian, which left his Rosebud as the far guard. Judging by the sour expression on her face, she wasn't too pleased with that turn of events. Well, she'd better deal with it. He'd hung back, just hoping for the chance to talk to her—and this time, it wasn't because he wanted to be near her. He needed to tell her what he'd witnessed.

She wrinkled her nose, looking incredibly adorable. Opening her mouth, she ruined the brief burst of pleasure he'd felt while enjoying her cute expression. "You know, you can always be our far-far guard and stay behind with that thing."

"Mm, I've had enough." He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out, leaving it behind, ignoring the pointed stare she shot at the butt. "What do you think, little dhampir? I was pretty badass with that plant, wasn't I? Of course, it would have been more badass if I'd, I dunno, helped an amputee grow a limb back. Or maybe separated Siamese twins. But that'll come with more practice."

"If you want some advice—which I'm sure you don't—you guys should lay off on the magic. Christian still thinks you're moving in on Lissa."

"What?" he asked in mock astonishment. "Doesn't he know my heart belongs to you?"

"It does not. And no, he's still worried about it, despite what I've told him."

He smiled. "You know, I bet if we started making out right now, it would make him feel better."

"If you touch me," Rose said, her voice deceptively pleasantly, "I'll provide you with the opportunity to see if you can heal yourself. Then we'd see how badass you really are."

"I'd get Lissa to heal me," he said smugly. "It'd be easy for her. Although…" At least she'd offered him the perfect opportunity to brooch the subject that was foremost on his mind. "Something weird happened when she used her magic."

"Yeah," she said. "I know. Could you sense it too?"

"No. But I saw it." He frowned. "Rose … remember when you asked about being crazy and I said you weren't?"

"Yeah…"

"I think I might have been wrong. I think you are crazy."

She stumbled. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Well…you see, the thing is, when Lissa did the second plant… her aura dimmed a little."

"That would go along with what I felt. It was kind of like she … I don't know, grew mentally fragile for a moment, kind of like she used to. But it went away."

No shit. He nodded. "Yeah, that's the thing…the darkness in her aura went away and into yours. Like, I've noticed before that you guys have a big difference in auras, but this time, I saw it happening. It was like that spot of darkness jumped out of hers and into yours."

She shivered, and he fought against the overwhelming desire to wrap his arms around her. "What does it mean?"

"Well, this is why I think you're crazy. Lissa isn't having any side effects from the magic anymore, right? And you, well… you've been feeling kind of short-tempered lately and you're, like, seeing ghosts." He said the words casually, like seeing ghosts was just something that happened from time to time. Hell, maybe it was, he believed in them. Then again, everyone knew he was mad as a hatter. "I think whatever harmful thing there is in spirit that screws with the mind is leaking out of her and into you. It's making her stay stable, and you, well… as I said, you're seeing ghosts."

"No," She said in a strained voice, her face stunned. "That's not happening to me."

"What about your bond? You have that connection. Her thoughts and feelings creep into you … why not the madness too?" He tried to sound casual, not wanting her to sense how incredibly worried he was about her. He knew firsthand how it felt to slowly lose your grip on reality. To fall down the rabbit hole into an alternate world that ate away everything that you knew. He didn't want her to suffer the same things he had.

"Because it doesn't make any—" She broke off, her eyes widening. He stared at her intently, realizing she'd thought of something.

"Christian!"

The three figures walking in front of them stopped, turning back and watching them intently.

"Yeah?" Christian asked.

"I need to take a detour—or rather, we do since I can't go anywhere without you. We need to go to the church."

Church. Lissa had mentioned something… He tilted his head, searching his mind.

"What, you need to confess something?" Christian tried to make it a joke, but his voice betrayed his confusion.

"Don't ask questions. Please. It'll only take a few minutes."

Concern crossed Lissa's face. "Well, we can all go—"

He watched Rose's aura shoot out a burst of dismay. Hmmm… She didn't want Lissa along. Why?

"No, we'll be fast." She said. "Go to the dorm. We'll catch up. Please, Christian?"

Christian studied her, for a moment. "Okay, but if you try to get me to pray with you, I walk."

They left without another word, leaving Lissa to stare after them, hurt and confusion flickering around her like colorful fireflies.

Adrian walked closer to her, watching as Eddie scanned the area, all his attention focused on their surroundings. The kid was going to be an excellent guardian. Once Rose and Christian were out of earshot, he leaned closer to her. "Cousin, what was it you told me about Rose and the chapel? Not about the community service… There was something before that—" He broke off, hoping she'd fill the blank spots in his memory.

Lissa chewed at her bottom lip, her face thoughtful. "Um… I don't really remember—" She broke off, staring into the distance, lost in thought. "Wait—that's how we learned about spirit. She read about it, in some book Father Andrew gave her. Is that what you mean?"

"What was the book about?" He asked, trying to sound casual.

"Saint Vladimir and his bond-mate Anna."

He nodded, his face thoughtful. "I'll catch up with you later, Lissa. I just remembered something I was supposed to do."

"You too?"

"Sorry." He started to turn, then stopped, staring at the ground. "Lissa, would you do something for me?"

She studied him, searching, perhaps for a clue as to what he would request. It would shock her, when he asked, but he had to do it. After a moment, she smiled.

"Of course. As long as it's not something—"

He cut her off. "The next time Rose and I are talking…" God, this was embarrassing. "Would you try to see our auras? To see how they react to one another? To see if she…" He faltered, not sure how to continue.

She reached over, pulling him into a friendly embrace. "Sure, but I can't make any promises. You know I can't always see them—but I'll try."

He pulled away, knowing if anyone saw them, rumors would fly. "Thanks."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he headed across the campus, towards the office of Guardian Alberta Petrov.


	35. Ripe and Mature

Apparently, someone had forgotten to send him a memo. Clearly, he and Alberta were no longer best friends—at least, that's the impression she was giving him. Her displeasure was obvious when he walked into his office—if looks could kill, hers would be more deadly than a hungry strigoi. He gave her a slow, seductive smile.

"Lord Ivashkov," she said, her voice so frosty that it gave him chills, "what do you need?"

He gave her a sly smile. "Maybe I just wanted to see your lovely smile, Alberta."

One pale eyebrow shot sky high. "I don't have time for this. Get to the point."

"You should always make time for handsome men, Alberta." He sank down in a chair, ignoring her sigh of displeasure. "Especially one that so enjoys your company."

"If this is about Guardian Belikov…" She trailed off, staring at him pointedly.

"Why would you assume that? I haven't seen the cradle robber all day."

She tried to choke back a laugh, failing miserably. "Adrian!"

"Hah! See, you do love me Allie. Can I call you Allie?"

"Absolutely not." She sat back in her chair, studying him intently. "You didn't come in here just to flirt with an old woman, so get to the point—I really am busy."

"I don't see any old women in here—you're mature… ripe… You're in your prime, you know."

"Adrian…" She tried to sound stern, but her twitching lips betrayed her.

He slouched down in the uncomfortable chair, deciding he'd pushed his luck far enough. "Can I have a fax sent here?" He gestured to the machine in the corner.

Alberta looked befuddled. "Why not just have it sent to the front office?"

"It's private. I don't trust Kirova. You on the other hand… I know for a fact that you, my darling Alberta, can keep a secret." He threw her a winning smile, hoping she'd agree.

She sighed again, scribbling something down on a slip of paper. "This better not be some kind of joke."

He took the paper from her outstretched hand, in turn, handing her a small white card. "If you call me when it comes across, I'll swing back by to pick it up. My cell number is on the back. I'll be in my room waiting."

"Fine. Now get out of here."

He paused in the doorway. "Thanks… Allie. I owe you one."

He left before she could throw something at him.

As soon as he got back to his room, he poured himself a drink. He'd placed a call to court, calling in a debt from Lucian Szelsky—the man considered by most everyone to be the foremost authority on Moroi saints. Since the debt in question had involved a poker game and a rather substantial loss on Lucian's part, the man was more than willing to send the information Adrian requested in lieu of payment.

Walking over to the small desk, he pulled out the stack of photocopied pages that Lissa had given him—duplicates of every single pages from her 'spirit' notebook. In a rare burst of efficiency, he carefully marked the passages that interested him, collapsing on the couch to commit them to memory.

On paper, each item seemed easy enough—almost impossibly simple. He'd already discovered that every aura was unique and individual, like a fingerprint. Each one… felt different. Flowed different—the way the colors reflected and changed varied between each individual. Likewise he'd also determined—again, something learned on his own—that once he had studied someone's aura intently, he could pick them out of a crowd almost instantly. Sometimes he could sense when someone was approaching him—his brain would alert him of an approaching familiar aura. Those things were the basic principles of aura targeting. It was, in essence, a spirit driven GPS. According to the notes, one simply had to concentrate and visualize the aura of the individual you wanted to trace.

He let his head fall back, relaxing into the couch as he thought about Rose's aura. He pictured each and every nuance of its natural colors, even including the darkness she'd recently absorbed. He frowned, coming up blank. Rather than feel discouraged, he decided Rose might not be so easy to trace, since she was bound to a spirit user. Switching subjects, his lip curled as he concentrated on the Russian. Almost instantly, an answer appeared in his head, a weird mixture of image, emotion and… something else… something he had no name for.

His eyes shot open. Holy fuck. It couldn't be that easy, could it? He shot to his feet, hurrying out the door and across the dark grounds, all the while concentrating on the man in question. He kept getting the same response.

The track.

Sure enough, once he got close enough, he could see a lone figure running laps. From the gargantuan height it was either Belikov or the Jolly Green Giant. Adrian's lips curled up in a pleased smile as he made his way back to his room. One forbidden talent learned, three more to go.

Alberta was standing outside his door, an irritated expression on her face. "You said you'd be in your room."

"I also said to call me." He held up his phone. "It was unlocked; you could have gone in."

She shot him a look, holding up the envelope. "This is about the Princess and Rose, isn't it?"

He motioned her towards the couch, heading for the kitchenette. "Why would you think that? Saint Vladimir was a spirit user, just like me. Maybe I'm trying to understand more about my element."

When he entered the room, he frowned. She was still standing in the doorway. "Don't you want a drink?"

"I'm still on duty, Ivashkov."

"Adrian," he corrected her. "I won't tell on you, Alberta."

She ran a hand through her short hair, glancing at her watch. "Hell, I've only got twenty minutes left." She crossed to the couch, propping her feet on the highly polished coffee table. "Vodka again?"

He smirked, setting the tray he'd been carrying down in front of her. "Tequila."

She looked at the tray, taking in the salt shaker, limes and bottle. "Glasses?"

His lip twitched. "Body shots."


	36. Brick House

Alberta stared at him, wide eyed for a full minute before jumping to her feet and heading for the door.

God, he loved teasing her.

He'd anticipated her reaction, purposefully positioning himself so he could reach the door a split second before she did. Leaning against it, he smiled, crossing his arms as he blocked her dramatic exit.

"Leaving so soon, Allie?"

"Move," she growled.

His smile widened. "Make me."

Alberta narrowed her eyes. "Don't tempt me, Ivashkov."

He leaned towards her, amused when she flinched away from him. When he spoke, it was almost a whisper. "It was a joke, Alberta." He brushed past her, sauntering into the kitchen to grab the shot glasses he'd left on the counter.

"Has anyone ever informed you of the fact you're an asshole?"

"Frequently." Plopping down on the couch he poured out the drinks, then patter the cushion beside him. "Park it Petrov. If that envelope contains even half of what I'm expecting, I'm going to need a drink or two to stay calm."

He enjoyed Alberta's company. She had a sharp, biting sense of humor that was similar to his own, and when she laughed, it was infectious, making him forget his troubles for a while. Growing up as a Royal Moroi, he often forgot that the guardians' were people with thoughts and feelings—with desires of their own. Looking at them, all you could see was their stoic, unfaltering expressions, making them seem unfeeling or uncaring. When Alberta dropped her mask, she was one of the most entertaining people he'd ever met.

After the second shot hit his system, he tore into the envelope, leafing through the pages. It was too much reading for one night, so he zeroed in on Lucien's final summary, trusting that the man had been thorough.

St. Vladimir struggled his whole life with spirit's side effects. He suffered through dreams and delusions, experiences he wrote off to "demons." But he never completely lost it—never went completely crazy or tried to kill himself. Because his bond mate—shadow kissed Anna—had sacrificed herself, taking his insanity—the darkness of spirit—to save him. Just like Rose had done in the classroom.

He tossed the papers down on the coffee table with a sigh. He could feel Alberta's eyes on him, the curious gaze pressing against him like a weight. He ignored it, pouring another round. He wasn't ready to discuss it… yet. Those few sentences had confirmed his worst fears, and they weren't just fears for his Rosebud. Fear for his own future poked at him as he mentally made a vow; he'd never create a bond mate. To do so might save his sanity, but he refused to damn another person with his madness.

By the fifth shot, his worries had been forgotten. He watched in amusement as Alberta snuck a drag off his cigarette, almost pissing himself with laughter when she began coughing up a lung a few seconds later. The seventh drink tore down the barriers on their inhibitions, Alberta trying to sooth him as he sobbed, confessing his deep, tragic love for Rose—and the hopeless despair he felt when he saw her with Belikov. Her expression was almost motherly as she poured them another round and attempted to change the subject.

"So tell me, Adrian, what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done while under the influence?" Wincing as she tossed back the Patròn, she set her glass down, propping her feet on the table as she leaned back.

Thinking about it, he smirked. "Standing outside of Belikov's room serenading him. I thought I was at the dhampir dorm."

"That really happened?" She laughed. "I thought Alto was pulling my leg."

"Nope. Your turn."

She leaned her head back, studying the ceiling. "If I tell you… I swear to God Adrian, if you ever repeat it, I'll kill you." She glanced over at him, grinning.

"Scout's honor." He winked at her—at least, he attempted to. He was so drunk he couldn't be sure if he'd succeeded.

"You were never a scout, Ivashkov." She chuckled before beginning her confession. "Back before I came here, when I was out in the field, my charge was a very happy go lucky young man. He was a good person, and we became… friends. He always insisted I worked too hard, so he arranged for me to have a night off. I didn't want it, but he insisted. When the night in question came, he drug me along as his guest when he went out on the town with his friends. Since I wasn't on duty, I drank a bit too much and…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

"That cannot possibly be the embarrassing part," he said, eying the empty glasses. Don't leave me hanging, Allie. Spill it." Grabbing the tequila he took a swig straight from the bottle.

"We ended up in a strip club and I ripped a feather boa off one of the dancers and got onstage dancing to 'Brick House'." She said it so fast her words ran together.

He sprayed her with his mouthful of tequila as he choked on his own laughter. When he finally calmed down, she was smiling at him fondly. "Holy shit. I wish I'd seen that."

"Trust me, it wasn't pretty. It made his night, though."

"Why did you stop guarding him?" He asked, handing her the bottle.

She sighed. "His mother didn't approve of how… friendly we were. She had me reassigned."

The sadness in her voice penetrated through the layers of alcohol surrounding his brain, and he understood the hidden meaning behind her words. They'd been lovers. "Who was he?"

"A Tarus. You remind me of him, sometimes." She smiled wistfully at him. "You have his personality. And his eyes."

His heart gave a small pang of sympathy for her. He refilled the glasses, handing her one. "To tragic love affairs. Yours. Mine. Hell, even Rose and Belikov's."

She clinked her glass against his. "I'll drink to that."

And they did. Several more times.

* * *

A strange, buzzing sensation, accompanied by an irritating high-pitched ringing noise pulled him from sleep. He lay there for a moment, confused. Why the hell was his cheek vibrating? It took him a minute to realize his face was pressed against something, and that something was the source of his discomfort. A phone. What the hell?

"What the fuck do you want?" His voice sounded slurred as he mumbled out his version of 'hello'.

"Ivashkov?" The voice on the other end sounded confused.

"What?"

"Sorry, I thought I dialed Guardian Petrov. I—"

Shit. He ended the call, sitting up and slamming his head against something hard. Why the hell was he under the coffee table? He shook his head, dismissing the question. He had a bigger problem to deal with. Alberta Petrov was passed out on his couch, and he'd just answered her phone—a phone that was ringing again. He wracked his brain for an excuse, finding one almost instantly. Thank God he had experience creating plausible lies.

"Hello?"

"Ivashkov—I don't know your cell number. Why are you answering Guardian Petrov's phone?" Belikov's voice was no longer confused, instead, now his tone was almost…teasing.

"I had a fax sent to her office last night. I must have picked up her phone by mistake." Adrian closed his eyes, wincing at the pounding in his head.

"Do you happen to know where she is?"

Belikov's smug voice was starting to irritate him. "Her office?"

"That's where I am. Any other ideas?"

Over the phone he could hear a door shut. Fuck—he better not be headed this way.

"Her dorm room? Hell, I don't know, when did I become Alberta's keeper?" He reached down, shaking her gently.

"What time did you pick up your—" Belikov began to ask, stopping abruptly when Alberta woke up and started talking in an extremely loud voice.

"Ivashkov? How much did we drink last night?"

Fuck a damned duck. Adrian slammed the phone shut with a groan. Dear God. He should have put a hand over her mouth before waking her. Alberta sat up, staring at him, eyes wide.

"Please tell me that's not my phone."

He tossed it to her. "Well I had the perfect cover story, until you started shouting at me."

She buried her face in her hands. "Who was it?"

"Three guesses." He smirked.

"Jesus."

"Nope. Next guess?" He dodged the smack she aimed at his shoulder. "I believe the cradle robber might be headed this way, so here's the story. I was drunk when I got to your office. You walked me back and I compelled you into having a few drinks with me."

She stared at him, her eyes bloodshot, her hair sticking out in a hundred different directions, trying to grasp what he'd said. "You could get in trouble for using magic to compel me."

He shrugged. "Nah. It's only Belikov."

"Adrian, you're something else." She hurried over to the door. "Thanks."

"Sure thing. Oh, and Allie?" She stuck her head back in the door, a questioning look on her face. "Next time let's drink gin."

As soon as she was gone, he showered and dressed, desperate for some fresh air. Before leaving the apartment, he took a moment to use his laptop, unable to keep a decidedly wicked smile off his handsome face.

* * *

He spent the morning in the library, searching for information—there had to be some way to counter the insanity that spirit brought on. Some way to heal her, or drain it away. Unfortunately, if there was, he didn't find it. He did, however find several interesting tidbits on compulsion that he'd never seen before. He made note of the books, then set out in search of Lissa. She'd want to know about this, so she could add it to their ever growing compilation.

He was about to start searching for her when he spotted Rose walking towards the commons, the colors in her aura a mixed up jumble of confusion and dismay.

"Rose!" She glanced over at him and he had to bite back a smile at the stunned expression on her face.

"Did you just call me 'Rose'?" She asked. "And not 'little dhampir'? I don't think that's ever happened."

"It happens all the time," he countered, catching up to her as they entered the commons. Their footfalls echoed loudly in the deserted hallway. "Where's your better half?"

"Christian?"

"No, Lissa. You can tell where she is, right?"

"Yeah, I can tell because it's last period, and she's in class like everyone else. You keep forgetting that for the rest of us, this is a school."

Damn. He hated having exciting news and no one to share it with. "I found more case files I wanted to talk to her about. More super-compulsion stuff."

"Whoa, you've been doing something productive? I'm impressed." She teased.

"You're one to talk. Especially considering your whole existence here revolves around beating people up. You dhampirs are uncivilized—but then, that's why we love you." He struggled to keep his tone light as he uttered the last two words. He longed to say them to her—to whisper love you into her ear. He could picture him murmuring it to her quietly between kisses and caresses.

"Actually," she mused, "we aren't the only ones doing beatings lately. Does the word Mână mean anything to you?"

He leaned against the wall and reached for his cigarettes. "Sure."

"You're inside the school," she warned.

"What—oh, right." With a sigh, he slid the pack back into his pocket. Stupid rules and regulations. "Don't half of you study Romanian here? It means 'hand.'"

"I study English here."

"Why the interest in translation?" He studied her face, watching as she tried to puzzle something out in her head.

"I don't know. I think I got it wrong. I thought it had some connection to this thing that's been going on with these royals."

"Oh Lord. Not that. Are they really doing it here too?" He asked.

"Doing what?"

"The Mână. The Hand. It's this stupid secret society that pops up at schools. We had a chapter of it back at Alder. It's mostly a bunch of royals getting together and having secret meetings to talk about how much better they are than everyone else."

"That's it then," she said. He watched her eyes brighten as she figured out what had been troubling her. "That's Jesse and Ralf's little group—the one they tried to get Christian to join. That's what this Mână is."

"Him?" Adrian laughed. "They must have been desperate—and I don't mean that as a slam against Christian. He's just not really the type to get into that kind of thing."

"Yeah, well, he turned them down pretty hard. What's the point of this secret society exactly?"

He shrugged. "The same as any other. It's a way to make people feel better about themselves. Everyone likes feeling special. Being part of an elite group is a way to do that."

"But you weren't part of it?"

Hell no, he had enough on his plate trying to stay sane. "No need. I already know I'm special."

"Jesse and Ralf made it sound like royals had to stick together because of all the controversies that are going on—about fighting and guardians and all that. They made it sound like they could do something about it."

"Not at this age," said Adrian. "Mostly all they can do is talk. When they get older, Mână members sometimes cut deals for each other and still have secret meetings."

"That's it then? They're just hanging out and talking to hear themselves talk?"

He contemplated her question. "Well, yes, of course they're doing lots of that. But I mean, whenever these little chapters form, there's usually something specific they want to do in secret. Each group's kind of different that way, so this one's probably got some plan or scheme or whatever."

"You know a lot for someone who wasn't in it."

"My dad was. He never talks much about it—hence the secret part—but I picked up things, and then I heard about it while I was at school."

Rose leaned against the wall next to him, making his heart beat a tiny bit faster. "Did you hear anything about them beating up people? There are at least four Moroi I know of who were attacked. And they won't talk about it."

"Who? Like non-royals?"

"No. Other royals."

"That doesn't make any sense. The whole point of it is for elite royals to band together to protect themselves from change. Unless, perhaps, they're going after royals who refuse or are supporting non-royals."

"Maybe. But one of them was Jesse's brother, and Jesse seems to be a founding member. Seems like he'd have to make the cut. And they didn't do anything when Christian refused."

Adrian spread his hands wide. "Even I don't know everything, and like I said, this one's probably got its own little agenda they're keeping hidden." She sighed, the look on her face making him curious. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because it isn't right. The people I saw were in bad shape. If some group's going around and ganging up on victims, they need to be stopped,"

He laughed, unthinkingly reaching over and gently tugging at a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. God, it was so fucking soft. "You can't save everyone, though God knows you try."

"I just want to do what's right." Her face softened for a moment, then she gave him a small smile. "I need to bring justice where it's needed."

He watched her aura brighten, and saw the truth in her words. Unfortunately, he also saw that she was thinking about Belikov. He could tell by the flickering colors. "The crazy thing, little dhampir, is that you mean that. I can tell by your aura."

"What, are you saying it's not black anymore?"

"No…still dark, definitely. But it's got a little light in it, streaks of gold. Like sunlight."

"Maybe your theory about me catching it from Lissa is wrong then."

"Depends," he said. "When was the last time you saw her?"

She socked his shoulder, and even that small touch made him smile. "You have no clue, do you? You're making this up as you go along."

The nearness of her was overwhelming him. He caught her wrist before he could stop himself, pulling her closer. "Isn't that the way you normally operate?"

She grinned, and just like that, her aura changed, making him catch his breath. It flared with… attraction. She studied his face, and her careful scrutiny dragged his attention back to the girl in front of him. "You know," he said, "under any other circumstances, this would be hot. Instead, you're looking at me like I'm some kind of science fair project."

"Why don't you ever use compulsion on me?" She asked. "And I don't mean just to stop me from getting in fights."

"Because half the fun of you is that you're so difficult."

"Do it."

"Do what?" He asked, confused by the direction the conversation was taking.

"Use compulsion on me."

"What?" He stared at her, waiting for her to laugh—to say she was joking.

"Use compulsion to make me want to kiss you—except you have to promise not to actually kiss me."

"That's pretty weird—and when I say something's weird, you know it's serious."

"Please."

Good God, could he control himself? If he compelled her and she wanted to kiss him, would he be able to resist her? Only one way to find out. He sighed, focusing his eyes on her and lacing his words with spirit as he pushed them into her mind. "I want to kiss you, Rose," he said softly. "And I want you to want me too."

Her expression changed almost instantly. Her pupils dilated, her breathing quickened and she stared at him with a look of utter longing. Closing the remaining space between them, she tilted her face up toward his, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she stared at him.

"Do you want to?" he asked, voice still like velvet. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes," she said, staring at his lips.

He leaned closer, his mouth hovering a few inches away from her lips—those full, luscious lips that were waiting to be kissed. Waiting for him to—He stopped. "We're done," he said, stepping back and withdrawing his power. His heart was pounding so hard he was afraid he might be going into cardiac arrest. So close—he had been so close. He'd felt her warm breath on his face, teasing him. Fuck. He had an erection and they hadn't even done anything.

She snapped out of it instantly. "Hmm,"

"Hmm?" he asked, watching her aura as it fluttered, reflecting the colors it always had when she was thinking about her damned Russian. He was thankful for his pea coat, it was long enough to hide his rather large… problem.

"Hmm."

The third "hmm" came from across the hall, pulling his attention away from Rose. Christian stood across the hall watching them. The sounds of students pouring out of classrooms rumbled through the hallway. He had to get away from her, and this offered the perfect opportunity.

"Now I can see Lissa," he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful.

"Rose, will you come with me to the feeders?" asked Christian.

"I'm not guarding you today."

"Yeah, well, I miss your charming company."

"Sure. I'll see you later, Adrian," she said.

He nodded, heading in the other direction, holding his coat closed in front of him. He'd find Lissa, but not until he took a very long, very cold shower.


	37. That'll Be The Day

He didn't see Rose the next day, a fact which made him ache. Even if he didn't speak to her, only seeing her in passing, it made his day better. Lissa was busy with Christian, leaving him bored and at a loss—he had nothing to do, and the inactivity was killing him. Not to mention the fact his mind had been feeling… strange all day. He decided to head back to the library. At least there he could keep busy, making copies of the new information he'd found. He kept at it until the librarian informed him it was time to leave, then headed to Lissa's dorm room to drop off the documents. Christian was leaving when he arrived, the other boy giving him a dirty look as he approached the door.

"She's taking a shower."

Adrian sighed. Christians dislike of him was really starting to get irksome. "I was just dropping these off."

"What is it?"

"Stuff on spirit. I found some new information and made copies. There's some stuff on Saint Vladimir and his miracles, too." At the mention of Saint Vlad, Christian's face tensed, Reminding Adrian of Rose's desperate flight to the chapel a few days before.

Christian reached for the papers, flipping through them. "What's up with all the interest in Saint Vlad?"

"Besides the obvious fact he was a spirit user? He had a bond mate who was shadow kissed, like Rose. I've been trying to find more information on them, but—"

Christian cut him off. "Try the church. That's where Rose found out—I smuggled her out some books, but there's still quite a few in the attic."

Adrian glanced at his watch. He'd be cutting it close. "Thanks. Give those to Lissa, please."

He jogged towards the church, his lungs heaving. He was gasping for breath by the time he hurried through the door, bumping into Father Andrew. "Sorry." He took a deep breath, trying not to wheeze. "I was trying to get here before you locked up."

The priest smiled. "It's strange that no one ever seems to need this place in the daytime."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking aloud. Last night I had to wait for Miss Hathaway and—"

"Rose was here?" What did she want?" He interrupted.

The priest's welcoming smile shifted into a more guarded expression. "I'm sorry I don't feel comfortable—"

Adrian's temper started to rise. "You feel totally comfortable answering me." He didn't have the patience or the time for this bullshit. He caught the man's eye, thrusting out spirit. "What did she want?"

Father Andrew's eyes became distant. "I didn't talk to her. Only to Guardian Belikov."

The sound of the Russian's name made his anger spike higher. "What did he want?"

"Nothing."

Shit. "What were they doing?"

"Rosemarie was crying. He comforted her. I felt… guilty watching them, so I made a noise to alert them to my presence. Then they left."

Hells bells. He stormed out of the church, the books he'd been seeking forgotten. He lit a cigarette, leaning against a tree as he wondering what could have upset Rose to the extent it had made her cry. From everything he'd seen and heard, she wasn't one to shed tears in a public place. Fucking Belikov. How did he always manage to be in the right place at the exact right moment? The damned stalker was always right on hand to offer _comfort _when she needed it.

Dragging deeply on his cigarette, Adrian headed back to his room. Tonight was the last straw. He was tired of being ignored. It was time to test out a few more of the 'forbidden' tricks they had discovered—and he had the perfect guinea pig in mind.

Belikov was leaning against the door to his suite. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events—the lab rat was making a house call. Adrian stopped a few feet away, shooting him a questioning look.

"Alberta insisted I take the night off. She also insisted I spend it drinking… with you."

"Pardon me?"

Belikov frowned. "She seems to think the only way she can trust me to keep her… actions the other night a secret is if I participate in one of your little drinking binges."

He look so distraught at the idea that Adrian almost laughed. Almost being the operative word. A moment later, he realized Alberta had totally screwed him over. The last thing he wanted to do was spend an entire evening with the jackass. Ohhhh that woman was going to regret this.

"Whatever. Come on in." Brushing past him, he opened the door, tossing his coat over a chair. "I assume you're a vodka man?"

"I'm not drinking with you, Ivashkov. I'll sit here all night, if that's what Alberta wants, but that's it."

"Don't get all high and mighty on me. What about our little agreement?"

Belikov arched an eyebrow at him, smirking. "That was a one-time offer. You got drunk that night, so the deal's off."

"I'm sober now. Have been all day. Yesterday too."

"Good for you."

"If you drink with me, I'll let you in on a little secret… Rose almost kissed me yesterday. Want to know why?" Adrian smiled, knowing there was no way the other man could refuse.

"I don't believe it."

Adrian set two bottles of vodka on the table, returning to the cabinet for glasses. "Ask Ozera. He… interrupted us." He set the glasses down. "Go on, call him."

Belikov's eyes narrowed as he shot Adrian a dark look. "Rose wouldn't do that."

"She did. Guess you don't wanna know why." He sank down on the sofa, pouring himself a drink.

Rolling his eyes, the taller man grabbed the bottle. "One drink. That's all." He eyed the label, his lips turning up slightly. "At least you have good taste in vodka."

He turned up the bottle, and Adrian watched in amazement as he downed almost half its contents. Using the hem of his shirt, he wiped off the lip of the bottle before handing it back to Adrian. Noticing the shocked expression on his face, Belikov made a disgusted face at him.

"Did you really think I couldn't handle a drink? I'm Russian."

"Please," Adrian snorted, "for all I know you're about to pass out. If you're still conscious in twenty minutes, then I'll be impressed." He took a drink, eying the other man over the top of the bottle. "Aren't you worried you'll get in trouble for drinking on the job?"

"I'm not on the job right now, I told you Alberta gave me the night off. Besides, the amount I drank won't affect me in the slightest. I could out drink you, if I wanted to destroy my liver."

"Okay, tough guy. We're gonna put that to the test. Since we're stuck together, tell me what's up with Rose Why was she so upset last night?"

"I don't know what you're referring to. Besides, I believe you have something to tell me?"

Fuck. "She asked me to use compulsion on her—to make her want to kiss me."

"Why?"

Adrian sighed dramatically. "I don't know, but she was thinking about you the whole time. Happy now?"

Belikov stared at him. "Why didn't you kiss her while she was under your compulsion?"

He shrugged. "It wouldn't be right. When she kisses me, I want it to be her idea."

"That'll be the day."

"Did you just quote John Wayne at me?"

The Russian looked over at him, his Guardian mask slipping. "How did you know that?"

"I like that movie. The Searchers, right?"

"Yes." Dimitri smiled at him. "You have good taste in films."

Adrian smirked. If all it took was 'the Duke' to get Belikov to let down his guard, then the man was totally screwed. "Look, Alberta gave you an order, right? You're stuck here with me, and she told you to drink. If you keep drinking, we can watch the movie. Or maybe you'd prefer Rio Bravo?"

He watched in amusement as Dimitri's face lit up. "You like Rio Bravo too?"

"Oh yeah. I'm a big fan. We could make a night of it—a movie marathon."

Belikov bit the inside of his cheek, pondering the offer. Decision made, he reached for the bottle. "If I agree, this never happened. If you tell anyone, I'll hurt you."

Adrian stuck out his hand. "Deal."

They shook on it.

* * *

Thank God Netflixs had an extensive John Wayne collection —he downloaded every one of them. They were already on the third film, and still Belikov showed no sign of being the slightest bit tipsy, despite being well into his third bottle of vodka. Adrian had stopped after two drinks, wanting to keep a clear head so he could question the other man about Rose. He was just waiting for the Russian to get drunk. The other man was staring at the T.V. with a happy expression on his face, immersed in—what Adrian considered— the most boring movie in existence. He'd spent the first thirty minutes reading over the cases they'd discovered where a spirit user had displayed a talent for reading the thoughts of others, but after committing it to memory, he was stuck in western hell. Relief slammed into him when there was a knock at the door, saving him from his misery.

"Well, Guardian Petrov. What a pleasant surprise. Care to join us?" He smiled at her, wondering how he'd pay her back for this little torture session he was stuck in.

Alberta smirked at him. "Having fun? I thought I'd stop by to make sure Belikov was here." She stepped into the apartment, freezing in place as Dimitri started laughing. "What the hell?"

"John Wayne. The way to Belikov's heart is John Wayne movies." Adrian whispered, taking her arm and guiding her towards the couch. "Please don't leave me alone with him. I'm dying here."

"Hello Dimitri." Alberta sat down beside him, glancing at the movie. "What are we watching?"

Belikov paused the movie, turning to her with a smile. "Angel and the Badman. Have you seen it?"

Alberta shot Adrian a look of utter amazement. "Uh, I think so, a long time ago."

"It's a very good movie. I haven't seen it since I was small." He turned back to the television, forgetting Alberta's existence as soon as he pushed play.

Adrian jerked his head towards the kitchen, smiling wryly as Alberta edged her way past Dimitri, earning a sound of displeasure when she walked across his line of vision.

"What the hell did you do to him?"

"Nothing. You gave him the night off and ordered him to drink. He wouldn't drink, so I bribed him with movies."

"I've never seen him like this. How much has he had?" Alberta peeked around the corner.

"Not nearly enough."

Shooting him a dark look, she walked back through the room. "Have a fun, gentleman. Belikov, don't forget you have to play Strigoi tomorrow."

He didn't even look up. Adrian studied him, shocked to realize he'd never seen the man smile—a real smile, like the one he had now, not a smug grin or a smirk. Hell, he'd never even seen Belikov smile at _Rose_. Maybe the man was a little bit tipsy. Time to test out what he'd learned. Settling back down on the couch, he grabbed the remote, hitting the pause button, ignoring the Russian's complaints.

"Are you drunk?"

Belikov glared at him. "No. Not in the slightest."

"I think you are. You actually look happy for once."

"I was happy because I was enjoying the film."

Adrian leaned forward, catching the other man's brown eyes in his gaze. "Why was Rose crying in the church."

Belikov's jaw tensed. Adrian could feel him pulling at the compulsion, trying to look away, but it was too strong. He focused all his energy into the other man. "You're tired, about to fall asleep. Right now."

The tall man slumped against the back of the couch, the bottle slipping from his grip and dropping to the floor. Once he was positive he was asleep, Adrian sank back, closing his eyes. He was rather skeptical about this particular skill. It just didn't seem logical, the way it had been explained in the archives. Not to mention the fact that it was supposed to be done while the… victim was conscious—unfortunately, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Concentrating on the blackness behind his closed eyelids, he pictured Belikov's aura. As soon as he had the image clearly reconstructed, he pushed spirit into it then quickly pulled it back, forming a current that flowed between them. Visualized in his mind, it almost looked like a whirlpool, constantly circling.

When he'd asked his spirit laced question, he'd planted it in the other man's subconscious, now the sweeping current brought thoughts regarding the answer straight to him from Belikov's head. Regrettably, he was swamped with Dimitri's pent up emotions as well, making him feel like he was drowning. It was startlingly similar to a vision dream, only this time, Adrian was not physically present.

Well fuck. It was as if he were in the Russian's body, reliving the moment.

Rose was sitting beside him, so close. Close enough to reach out and embrace, if he only had the courage. She sighed, a small, hopeless sound that tore at his heart. Reaching over, he gently placed his hand over hers, ignoring the small flinch she made. "You thought if she was right, it would explain everything."

She nodded. "I don't want to be crazy."

"You aren't crazy."

"But you don't believe I'm really seeing ghosts."

He glanced away, his eyes focusing on the flickering of candles on the altar. He felt horrible for reveling in the warm feeling of her small hand beneath his. She needed his help, this wasn't the time to have feelings like this. "I don't know. I'm still trying to keep an open mind. And being stressed isn't the same as being crazy."

"I know," Rose said. "But… well… there's something else…."

The image flickered, going out for a moment before reappearing, this time appearing fainter than it had a moment before.

"Have you told anyone else about this? Lissa? Your counselor?"

"No," she answered in a small voice, not meeting his eyes. "I was afraid of what they'd think."

He squeezed her hand. "You have to stop this. You aren't afraid of throwing yourself in the path of danger, but you're terrified of letting anyone in."

"I… I don't know," She looked up at him. "I guess."

"Then why'd you tell me?" He fought to keep his expression calm, wishing with every part of him that she's say it was because she loved him, that she knew he'd protect her, no matter what the cost.

She smiled. "Because you told me I should trust people. I trust you."

A wave of disappointment hit him. "You don't trust Lissa?"

Her smile faltered. "I trust her, absolutely. But I don't want to tell her things that'll make her worry. I guess it's a way of protecting her, just like keeping Strigoi away."

"She's stronger than you think," he said. "And she would go out of her way to help you."

"So what? You want me to confide in her and not you?"

"No, I want you to confide in both of us. I think it'd be good for you. Does what happened to Anna bother you?"

"No." Rose looked away again. "It scares me."

Her admission shocked the hell out of him. Roza never admitted any form of weakness. She—he saw the tears gathering in her eyes and had to comfort her. He had to take the bad feelings away, to shelter her from the things that tormented her. He loved her so much, the thought of her suffering felt like a knife in his heart. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close against his body. She rested her head against his chest and he could feel her trying to control herself. His poor, poor Roza.

"I don't want to be like that," she said. "I want to be like everyone else. I want my mind to be … normal. Normal by Rose standards, I mean. I don't want to lose control. I don't want to be like Anna and kill myself. I love being alive. I'd die to save my friends, but I hope it doesn't happen. I hope we all live long, happy lives. Like Lissa said—one big happy family. There's so much I want to do, but I'm so scared … scared that I'll be like her. I'm afraid I won't be able to stop it—"

He held her tighter. "It's not going to happen," he murmured. "You're wild and impulsive, but at the end of the day, you're one of the strongest people I know. Even if you are the same as Anna—and I don't think you are—you two won't share the same fate."

He held her in silence for a moment, searching for words… any words that would make this better. "You're also missing something," he continued, running a hand over her silky hair, closing his eyes as fingers brushed through it, enjoying the sensation. "If you are in danger from Lissa's magic, then at least you understand why. She can stop using her magic, and that'll be the end of it."

She pulled back, staring at him, rubbing at her eyes. A rustling sound came from near the door of the sanctuary, and he mentally cursed, scooting over to increase the space between them.

He stood, walking towards the priest and—

The image dissolved, replaced by an angry face. Adrian realized he couldn't breathe properly—probably because Belikov had him by the throat.

"I told you to stay out of my head!" He growled.

Adrian stared at him in disbelief, how had he broken out of the compulsion? "No you said to stay out of your dreams." His voice sounded choked.

Shoving him backwards, Belikov stood, towering over him as he tried to catch his breath. Adrian closed his eyes, concentrating on getting air into his oxygen starved lungs. He realized, too late, of course, that the reason the vision had dimmed was because the other man had been slowly waking up. He'd have to remember that little warning sign in the future.

"So that there will be no further misunderstandings between us, Ivashkov, Do not use your powers on my mind in any way shape or form. Do you understand?" He was so angry his accent overpowered his words.

"Crystal clear." He watched as Belikov stalked towards the door. "Hey wait, don't you want to finish the movie?"

Belikov shot him a dirty look, his aura flashing with sorrow. "Much as I would like to see the ending, I don't think I could stomach the company."

Adrian stared at the closed door, feeling like a complete and utter shit for ruining the man's happy mood.

* * *

_**A/N Many people have sent me messages requesting a 'Dimitri drinking' scene, so here you go. Since Dimitri drinking was never discussed in the books, I had to contemplate how he might react, because I wanted him to 'stay in character'.  
**_

_**I do not picture Dimitri as a weepy emotional drinker or a crazy acting one, so if that's what you were looking for, sorry. **_

_**In my opinion, a drunk—or in this case lightly buzzed—Dimitri would be... normal. Meaning we'd see him without his Guardian mask and without his walls in place, in essence the man he might have been if he lived a simpler life. Add a western movie to the mix, and we might get the chance to see him happy, even if just for a short time.** _

_**And to those of you worried about the Alberta and Adrian thing—don't be. Ivashkov is a natural flirt and tease, as shown in the books. He likes to pick on Alberta because now he knows he can get under her skin and walk away without any bruises.  
**_

_**Thanks to everyone who sent messages/commented in reviews about my dad. He's back at home and doing fine.  
**_

_**Also, thanks to everyone who have set an alert and/or marked this story or me as a favorite. I really appreciate it.  
**_

_**A big thank you also to all those who took the time to leave a review. It's wonderful to read your thoughts/feelings about the story. Hugs to you all.  
**_

_**Sorry for leaving yet another irritating author note, and such a long one, at that. :)  
**_


	38. Dream or Vision?

A wave of pure exhaustion hit him within minutes of the Russian's departure. Reading someone's thoughts apparently took a much greater use of spirit than any of the other tasks he'd mastered so far. Physically, he felt as if he'd just run a marathon; mentally, his brain felt like… mush. He tried to stumble to the bedroom, only to realize within a few steps that it was a lost cause—he'd never make it. Sleep was pressing down on him with an iron fist. Right before it claimed him, he collapsed onto the couch with a sigh. Closing his eyes, within less than a minute he was out for the count.

His dream started out wonderfully, taking him to a happy place where it seemed as if all his innermost desires had come to fruition. He was dancing with Rose in a grand ballroom, his aunt, the Queen sat watching them with a radiant smile on her normally dour face. Rose was a vision in a long formal crimson gown that sparked so much he thought it might be encrusted with rubies. She smiled up at him, and it was the smile she normally reserved for Belikov, full of love and admiration.  
"Why so serious, Adrian?" She asked, pressing her body even closer to him.

He smiled. "I was thinking how marvelous you look in that color, little dhampire."

"I do, don't I?"

"Of course, you could be wearing a mud covered burlap sack and still be the most beautiful girl in the world." He bent down, brushing his lips against her cheek.

She laughed. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Ivashkov."

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned his head to see who had the nerve to cut in on their dance. Belikov—he should have known. But… something was wrong with the man… there was something… different. As he watched, tan skin paled, turning deathly white, paler than even a Moroi. The Russian who'd been staring intently at Rose flicked his eyes to Adrian and his heart stopped as he saw the thin ring of red surrounding the dark pupil of each eye. Holy fuck! Belikov was—

"Roza is mine!" Dimitri's voice was cold and harsh sounding. He reached out, pulling Rose away from Adrian and pressing her close to his chest.

Adrian stared in horror as Rose smiled up at the man—no, the Strigoi—tilting her head and gathering her hair to the side, offering up her unblemished throat. Belikov smiled, revealing two wickedly sharp fangs, which he promptly buried in her flesh. She moaned with pleasure, her hands snaking up around his neck and entwining in his brown hair. A thin trickle of blood trailed down her exposed back, the same color as the dress she wore—a color he'd complimented only moments before.

The sight freed him from his momentary stupor; not thinking, he jerked her back, taking a protective stance in front of her. He had no way to defeat a Strigoi, but he couldn't let Rose face Belikov, not like this. The Russian was her one weakness and Adrian knew she would never be able to harm him, not even if it meant saving her own life.

"No!" She screamed, trying to get around his body, to return to Belikov's side. "I won't leave him!"

Fighting like a wildcat she continued to scream, hurling insults and obscenities at the man who was trying to protect her. She was determined to remove any obstacle that stood between her and the man—monster—she loved. She reached forward placing her hands on either side of Adrian's neck and twisted. As he fell to the ground the dream shifted, the ballroom fading away, replaced with a… void. A complete and solid velvety blackness surrounded him—he floated, suspended in midair, the vast darkness cradling him like a womb.

He felt the familiar buzzing in his head as his thoughts became hazy and muddled—insanity was paying him a late night visit. Around him images began flickering in the darkness. He'd catch a glimpse and as suddenly as he focused on it the scene would change into something else entirely. They were things he'd never seen or imagined in his waking hours. Things he wanted to forget… to somehow unsee as soon as he glimpsed them.

The forest… A dark underground chamber… Rose and Belikov, surrounded by Strigoi, fighting side by side. Their movements were completely in sync, resembling a choreographed dance as they left a trail of death and destruction in their wake. Around them bodies burst into flames, pain filled screams filling the air. Belikov… falling… his neck stained with blood as hands pulled at Rose—trying to move her as she fought against them, struggling to save her fallen love. She screamed, her voice filled with rage and pain, sounding as if her soul were being ripped out of her body. Flames consumed the images, but still her piercing screams tormented him. He had to stop them. Had to stop it…. Had to…remember.

Adrian jerked upright, his own scream on his lips as his eyes darted around the room. He was shaking violently, his body drenched in sweat. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his breathing—to stop the spastic jerking movements of his hands. His mind felt muddled and fuzzy, warning him of spirit's ever present darkness. Grabbing a bottle off the coffee table, he drained it, waiting for the manic feeling to subside. Automatically he reached for another, thankful that he hadn't put them away after Belikov's abrupt departure the night before.

Two cigarettes and several sips later, he could feel the first numbing effects of the alcohol hitting him. Satisfied he'd lubricated himself enough to think about what had frightened him so badly, he tried to contemplate his dream. He'd had nightmares aplenty, but that one… holy shit, that had been bad. That had been…

He sat up, staring into space, searching his mind, trying to pull back the images he'd seen. Trying to remember what the dream had entailed. He couldn't. It was as if it had been erased from his mind in its entirety. Staring at the bottle in his hand a feeling of overwhelming panic surged through him. He hurled the bottle at the wall, cursing. What if it hadn't been a dream? What if it had been… prophecy? Running his hands through his hair he cursed his crazy, unstable mind. He couldn't fucking recollect a single bit of it, all he knew was that it was something vitally important. Something that could mean the difference between life and death.

* * *

An hour later he exited Kirova's office with a signed permission slip in hand. He'd used compulsion to obtain it, but he'd had no choice in the matter. He needed Lissa's help and he couldn't wait for her to finish a day's worth of classes.

Hurrying across the campus he entered her American Colonial Literature classroom without knocking. Ignoring the surprised murmurs that raced through the room he strode directly to the instructor, shoving the slip of paper in her hand. The woman studied it for a moment before giving him a questioning look. He ignored her, pointedly scanning the room for Lissa. After an intolerable amount of time, the old witch finally dismissed her.

Lissa shot him a concerned look as she gathered her things and followed him out into the hallway. The Castille kid was on her heels—unfortunately he'd forgotten about her little shadow.

"What's going on?" She asked, racing to keep up with his fast pace.

"I need your help with something."

She stopped walking. "So you pulled me out of class?"

Gritting his teeth he retraced his steps, grabbing her arm and towing her along with him. She made a sound of protest and the Castille boy stepped closer to them with a confused look on his face. "I had a dream—a very important dream and I can't remember it."

She jerked her arm free, her normally calm face flushing indignantly. "You can't just—"

"It involved Rose." He dropped his face, his green eyes boring into her. "It was a… warning. Something bad is going to happen and I have to remember what it was."

She stared at him, still skeptical. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Damn it Lissa! Did you hear what I just said? I'm fucking sober! I need your help—for Rose." He glared at her, feeling his temper rise dangerously. "We are going to my room and you are going to try compulsion. If that doesn't work, then you're going to have to try and read my thoughts… my memories."

"We can't do that—we agreed it was too dangerous."

"_We_ didn't agree to anything. _You _ decided it was dangerous, not me. I did it last night and it—"

"What do you mean you did it?" She hissed. "Who did you use it on?"

"It doesn't matter. All you need to know is that it works; I can walk you through it." Adrian closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. "Please, Lissa. This is important." He stared at her, willing her to understand and to believe his words.

She studied him for a moment before nodding. "Fine, but we're going to talk about what you did later." She stared at him, waiting for conformation. He grimaced, nodding. She glared at him for a minute more, then sighed heavily. "Let's go."

* * *

Compulsion didn't work. After over an hour of trial and error, they realized she couldn't force him to tell her something if he couldn't access the memory—and she couldn't force the memory to return. Trying to read his thoughts didn't work either. Even after two hours, she couldn't grasp the concept. It was like dream walking—she just couldn't do it. He tried walking her through it step by step, even going so far as to give her detailed description of what he'd visualized while performing the task. Nothing worked.

He was beyond frantic. His head was once again fuzzy, warning him that if he didn't have a drink soon, his mind would slowly begin to unhinge—but he was determined to abstain. Alcohol would prevent him from fully accessing spirit, and he knew instinctively he'd need spirit to find the dream that was hidden somewhere in his mind.

"It's almost lunchtime and Rose will be worried if we're not there. Let's take a break." Lissa sighed, massaging her temples. She looked exhausted and he was worried about the effect all the spirit use she'd been taking part in would have on Rose.

The knock at the door startled all three of them. Eddie, having stationed himself at the wall was the closest; he glanced over at Adrian then opened it when the other man nodded. A young dhampir stood on the threshold.

"Package for Lord Ivashkov."

Adrian walked over, brushing past Eddie, ushering the boy inside. He'd forgotten all about the little surprise he'd ordered. Now didn't really seem like the right time for pranks, considering he was trying to remember a doom and gloom prophecy. Still, he owed Alberta for sticking him with Belikov the night before. Taking the box he tore off the address label then handed it back to kid.

"I need you to deliver that to Guardian Petrov."

The boy looked confused. "But Ms. Treges in the office said to bring it to you."

"She was mistaken." Adrian laced his words with spirit. "It belongs to Guardian Petrov. You're going to take it to her and you're not going to mention me at all, are you?"

"Adrian!" Lissa hissed.

He waved her off, pulling out his wallet. "Here's a little something for your trouble." He handed the boy a wad of bills and ushered him out the door. Glancing back at Lissa, he smirked. "Well, come on. Didn't you say something about lunch?"


	39. Into the Mouth of Madness

Lissa harassed him all the way to the feeders, alternating between belittling him for his casual use of compulsion to demanding to know what was in the box. For the most part, he ignored her. By the time he walked her through the lunch line she'd given up, finally realizing he wasn't paying attention. Gazing around the room he noticed Alberta standing against the wall, deep in conversation with Guardian Dick. Judging by her calm demeanor, the kid had yet to deliver the package. Rose and Christian were sitting at the usual table, Ozera's face tensing when he spotted Lissa at Adrian's side.

"Where have you been all day?" His tone was accusatory.

Lissa looked over at him, frowning. "Adrian needed my help with spirit. Headmistress Kirova excused me from my morning classes."

Adrian slid into the seat beside Rose, ignoring her sigh of displeasure. "Hey little dhampir. Looking good."

She tensed—he could almost see her running through her repertoire of insults, trying to decide which one to use. Sighing, she turned to face him.

"Not today, okay? I'm not in the mood."

He studied her aura, mentally wincing at how large the black cloud had become. Oh yeah, Lissa's spirit use had hit her hard. Realizing she was waiting for a response, he forced himself to grin. "No witty comeback today?"

"Seriously Adrian, I—"

"Heads up!" Eddie said, nodding towards the entrance.

Adrian swiveled in his chair, his forced grin widening into a real one as he watched the dhampir kid enter, still carrying the box. He bit his lip, knowing that whatever Alberta's reaction was—be it anger or amusement—it would be priceless.

"What's going on?" Rose looked from Eddie to Adrian, confused.

"Ivashkov paid that kid to give Alberta that box, but he won't tell us what's in it." Eddie answered.

Rose looked at him expectantly. "He'll tell me, won't you Adrian?"

He shook his head, watching as Alberta ducked her head down, listening to the boy. "Wait and see, little dhampir. Wait and see."

Alberta carried the box over to an empty table with a puzzled expression on her face. When she tore into the box, her face displayed a vast array of emotions, running from shock to downright embarrassment. Letting out an involuntary laugh, he immediately ducked his head down, trying to hide behind Rose. Hearing the sound, Alberta's head shot up as she scanned the room, looking for him. Scooping the box up she strode towards him, a murderous expression on his face.

"Shit. That's my cue. Gotta go." He tried to stand up, intending to make a break for the door, only to feel two hands clamp down on his shoulders, forcing him back into his seat.

"I believe Guardian Petrov is coming to speak with you, Lord Ivashkov."

He narrowed his eyes in frustration. Goddamned Belikov. Always fucking lurking. Alberta was staring directly at him, almost to their table when a Moroi girl stood up, the older woman tripping over her chair. The box went flying out of her hands, its contents spilling out on the ground. Adrian bit his lip as she shoved the items back into the box.

"Was that a pink feather boa?" Rose asked, confused.

He nodded. "And a Commodores CD." He winced at the look on Alberta's face as she reached them.

"Guardian Belikov, please escort Lord Ivashkov to my office."

"Sorry, I'm not done with my lunch." Adrian shot her a winning smile. "How about I come by in an hour?"

"Now."

Rolling his eyes he stood, glaring as Belikov placed a hand on his arm. "Hands off buddy, I'm not a student here—I'm a grown man."

"Then act like one. Move." The Russian glanced over at Rose who was trying to contain her laughter. Hustling Adrian out of the cafeteria, he ducked his head down, his voice almost a whisper. "Why the Commodores?"

"She likes the song Brick House." He shrugged, relieved when the other man released his elbow. "What's up with dhampir women not liking gifts?"

Belikov chuckled. Adrian glanced over at him, freezing in place. Superimposed over the other man was a ghost like image, resembling a double exposed film negative. He saw Belikov standing in front of him as he normally appeared, skin tanned, eyes a deep brown, but overshadowing that was an image of him with pale skin and a ring of red around his pupils.

"Ivashkov?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come. A strange noise filled his head, like the buzzing of a great swarm of bees. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it was in vain. The sound grew louder and louder until it was the only thing he could think of. The worlds around him narrowed down to a tiny corridor, shrinking more and more with each second that past. A deep, black swirling abyss appeared in front of him, growing wider and larger as he watched, the edges creeping closer and closer until finally he teetered on the edge. Dark creatures reached out from the pit, their misshapen claws trying to catch hold of him, wanting him to join them in their anguished torment. Over the buzzing he heard his voice crying out, but he could not focus on the words. Adrian Ivashkov felt himself slipping away, losing who and what he was as he tumbled forward into the gaping chasm before him. He surrendered himself into the grasping talons of his inner demons, falling into the embrace of madness.

* * *

He drifted in the darkness for an incalculable period of time, floating in a watery world of pain and confusion. A part of his brain realized he'd lost contact with reality, but he had no control in this place. From one moment to the next he lost all sense of time and being, simply riding along on a lazy current of… nothingness. Ever so often a thought would intrude, there was something he had to do… Someone he had to warn…

As quickly as his brain processed the thought another one cut it off, demanding his attention. An internal struggle began within him, each separate thought seeming to have its own voice and personality, each one making its own suggestions. He tried to grasp onto just one… to stop the constant flow of words and voices, but he couldn't control it. They came automatically, and all he could do was listen. Faster and faster they filled the void around him, increasing in speed and volume until he felt as though he were stuck in a hall full of people all talking at the same time, each person trying to shout louder than the one standing beside them. He felt his brain swelling to the point it would surely explode, building to a breaking point... and then it stopped. All the voices vanished, save one—that one was calling out, trying to reach him though the sticky molasses like layers of insanity. He felt hollow… he was totally empty… desolation drowning him as he struggled towards the familiar sound… He knew that accented voice… recognized the name it was saying… Adrian. What was an Adrian? Who was…

He was Adrian. Adrian Ivashkov.

The viscous, gelatinous layers of confusion melted away as his eyes shot open—he was staring up at the concerned face of Dimitri Belikov.

"Wha… What happened?" He asked, his voice sounding strange and raspy, as if he'd somehow strained it. He tried to sit up, only to be held in place by a large calloused hand.

Belikov shook his head. "Do not move yet. You had some kind of… seizure and collapsed. Alberta has gone to get the Doctor."

He briefly remembered walking… they had been on their way to…Shit. "Did anyone see me?"

"No one. You began shouting then you broke away from me and ran. We're in the forest. You didn't… completely break down until you were in the trees."

"I don't need a Doctor." He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I just went off the deep end for a while. It's because I haven't been drinking enough to counter act the… instability."

Belikov's eyes widened, his mask slightly slipping. "Why not? Why would you risk… this?"

"Look, I want to sit up. I'm okay now—well as okay as I'll ever be." He laughed, wincing at the sound. There was still a hint of dementia in it.

Belikov leaned back, watching as he slowly sat up—the look on his face making Adrian smirk. The Russian was tense, probably waiting for the madness to resurface. The other man could somehow tell it was still lingering in the recessed of his mind. Hell, he could still feel it running its fingers through his every thought, waiting for the chance to claim him again. Fuck, he needed a drink.

"I had another… prophecy, but I can't remember it. All I know is that it's something about Rose, and it could mean the difference between life and death." He met the other man's eyes, trying not to flinch at the fierce expression on his face. "I can't drink until I remember it."

Understanding flashed across Dimitri's face. He pulled out his phone, keying in a number as he stood and walked a few feet away. When he began speaking in a low voice, Adrian closed his eyes, searching his mind, trying to find any trace of the dream. He felt desperate; knowing somehow, that time was running out, he pushed himself, pulling on spirit and channeling it into his thoughts. His mind fought against him, refusing to surrender the hidden knowledge. All he found was a trail of feeling… a sense of sadness and loss that led to a brick wall he couldn't break through.

"Come on." Belikov's gruff voice pulled him out of his trance like state.

His eyes shot open and he stared up at the man, confused. "What?"

"You need to return to your room, in case this happens again." He reached down, pulling Adrian to his feet. "Alberta excused me from duty this afternoon. I'll keep you company, in case…" He trailed off, his brow furrowed.

Adrian smirked, understanding what he meant. "In case I go insane again. It's all right to say it Belikov, you won't hurt my feelings."

He followed after Dimitri, his mind running over what the other man had said. "What was I shouting at you?"

"You said Rose was screaming. And that I needed to fight." Belikov's jaw tensed. "What did you mean?"

"No idea. That's part of what I'm trying to remember."

They walked slowly, in uncomfortable silence towards the dorm that contained the guest suites. From time to time the Russian looked over at him, as if he had something he wanted to say, but was unsure how to proceed. Adrian sighed, wishing that whatever it was, he'd just get it over with. The waiting was getting on his last nerve.

"This… insanity. It's because of spirit. It's the darkness that Rose takes from the Princess, isn't it? If you had a bond-mate, it would help you."

Adrian glanced over at the other man, wondering where he was going with this. "Yes, it would. Are you volunteering?"

Belikov's lips twitched. "I believe I would have to die first… Isn't that correct?"

"I wouldn't do it anyway. I wouldn't saddle someone with… that. It's a horrible feeling, losing your mind." He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"And yet you risk the madness to help Roza." Belikov stared straight ahead, seeming unaware that he'd slipped, using his pet name for the girl.

"Yeah well, believe it or not, I love her too."

Dimitri's face tensed for a moment. "If anything were to happen to me… If I were to die…" He stopped walking, grabbing Adrian's arm and staring down at him. "I would be willing to help you. With the madness."

The words shocked him. "Why?"

"Because you are taking a great risk for her. And because you are a good person. I think I would be able to handle it much better than you do, Adrian." His brown eyes bored into the young Moroi with the force of laser beams for a moment and then he started walking again.

Adrian stared after him, amazed. The kids around campus were right. The man was a God, in more ways than one. Not that he'd ever admit he agreed with them. He couldn't fathom how anyone would willingly volunteer to suffer… to lose everything you were for someone else. As soon as the thought crossed his mind realization struck him. That, in essence, was what the dhampirs did. They sacrificed everything—their entire lives, their happiness—for the Moroi. Belikov was simply taking it to the next level by offering to sacrifice his mind.

"Thank you."

His words took the other man by surprise. "For what?"

Adrian smiled at him as they reached the door. "For your offer. I promise, if you die, I'll try my damnedest to bring you back." He stopped the other man, grabbing his arm. "But not to save my sanity. I'll do it because if you died, Rose would never recover."

Their eyes met, and for just a moment, complete understanding passed between them. They were total opposites in every way—two different races despite the fact they shared Moroi genetics. They were separated by a vast gorge of class and privilege, however unfair that might be. They would never be friends. They would never agree on anything, other than one simple fact.

Rose came first. Always.


	40. Impressionistic Images

Since Belikov was apparently stuck playing babysitter, Adrian tossed him the remote—at least now the Russian could finish watching his damned John Wayne movie. He lit up a cigarette, ignoring the dramatic cough that came from the man. Slowly he paced the area behind the couch—God forbid he walk in front of the T.V. screen, Belikov might smack him—trying not to notice that with each series of strides, the space between his body and the bar against the far wall became more and more narrow. He was leaning towards his alcohol stash the way Rose leaned towards her cradle-robber. Surely, one little drink wouldn't hurt—

No. He couldn't chance it. Maybe Lissa could come back over—they could try again. He pulled out his phone and stared at it, wondering how much darkness would flood Rose if Lissa succeeded in reading his memories. Damn it. Could this get any more difficult?

"I'm gonna take a shower." He headed towards the bedroom, not bothering to wait for a response. Belikov was already entranced in the television; he probably didn't hear a words that had been said.

The hot water loosened his tense muscles, while the steam soothed his aching lungs. If he could just find a way to clear his mind and pull out the nightmarish images from his dream, life would be grand. Wrapping himself in an over sized towel, he wiped the fog off the mirror, staring at his reflection. Something was tickling the back of his mind—something about a flowing current, from one into another then back again. But what the hell did that have to do with the problem at hand?

The ticklish feeling faded, slowly replaced by a strangedisorientation. Staring into the mirror, the first tendrils of madness reached out, gently caressing him. Was that his image? He cocked his head, studying the man. Were those his green eyes? His dark hair? No. He didn't look like that. He—

FUCK.

It was happening too rapidly; he couldn't stop it—not without having outside help. Racing into the bedroom he grabbed a bottle off his nightstand, hands shaking as he broke the seal and unscrewed the cap. The familiar burn as the liquid warmed his insides filled him with relief. He wouldn't go insane. He knew who he was—Adrian Ivashkov. He forced himself to stop after the first few swallows. Too much and he'd be useless, unable to help anyone. He'd drink just enough to keep the beasties at bay, to keep the claws out of his mind.

Dressing, he made his way into the living room, sinking down on the opposite end of the couch from Belikov. The Russian glanced over at him, offering a faint smile before returning his attention to the movie. Adrian sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he settled in for another long night of boredom. Maybe when he fell asleep, the horrifying dream would come.

* * *

One minute he was listening to Belikov chuckle softly, the next he was surrounded by blackness. The room started to slowly reform around him and he sat upright, shocked. He was in a spirit dream, but not one he'd consciously constructed. Glancing to his left, he saw Belikov, his head drooping forward, eyes closed. What the hell?

"Belikov." The other man didn't stir.

"Belikov." A bit louder this time. Still nothing.

"DIMITRI!"

Adrian's use of his first name must have caught his attention, maybe because he'd never used it before. The Russian lifted his head, groaning as he cracked his neck with a quick flick of his head—Adrian winced at the sound. Belikov looked over at him, confused. It lasted for less than a second before his brown eyes narrowed and his face became angry.

"I told you to stay out of my head!"

Adrian held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't do it! All I did was fall asleep!"

"Then what the—"

The rest of the sentence was lost, because the visions slammed into Adrian, more detailed than before. A cold, chilly breeze brushed against him, he was standing on the darkened campus, in a small copse of trees. Rose stood before him, a look of fear on her face, as she yelled out a warning to the Ozera kid.

"Get down!"

Christian dropped to the ground without hesitation. Two Strigoi came out of nowhere, throwing themselves at Rose. One slammed her into the tree right beside Adrian, and he gasped at the dazed look on her face. As quickly as it appeared it vanished, and she shoved the female Strigoi back. The male reached for Rose but she ducked, quickly avoiding him. She seemed to be outmatched, both were taller than her, filling him with an intense fear for her safety. She feinted toward the male then struck out towards the female, moving as quick as a cobra, slamming a silver stake into the monster's chest. She'd just pulled the stake out when the other Strigoi backhanded her, snarling and baring his fangs like an enraged dog. Rose staggered but kept her balance. It looked almost as if she was sizing her opponent up and finding him… lacking

They began to circle each other, Rose leaped forward, kicking out at him. He reached for her, and somehow, again she managed to dodge him. He immediately attacked again, this time knocking her to the ground and pinning her arms. She struggled to push him off, and Adrian reached out, trying to aide her, but his hands went through the Strigoi as if he were no more than a phantom.

FUCK! Where the hell was Belikov? Why wasn't he protecting her?

It was going to go in for the kill, its fangs against her neck—she started to yell at Christian to run, then the Strigoi above her suddenly lit up like a torch. He jerked back, and Rose rolled out from underneath him, her eyes wide with amazement.

Thick flames covered its body, completely obscuring any of the features. It screamed, falling to the ground, twitching and rolling before finally going still. Steam rose from where fire hit the snow, and the flames soon burned out, revealing nothing but ashes underneath.

Rose stared at the remains, emotions racing across her face. Adrian struggled to see her aura, but it was missing—how could she have no… wait, this was a vision of the future. He felt a moment of relief, which rapidly got lost in a wave of full-fledged panic. They were on the school grounds. How in the hell were Strigoi on the campus?

Rose turned to Christian, who was crouched on the ground. "Wow," she said, helping him up.

"No shit," he said. "Didn't know I had that much power."

The vision shifted, the images and colors running together like watercolors, reminding him, for an instant, of Monet's Water Lilies. It was beautiful, drawing him in, and he walked into the colorful swirls, emerging in an entirely different milieu.

The elementary campus. Strigoi and guardians were actively fighting around the entrances to one of the dorms. Rose stood surveying the scene before her. Adrian stared in horror—there were almost twenty Strigoi and half as many guardians. He watched as Rose and Christian launched themselves into the battle. A battered and bruised guardian was near a side entrance, fending off three Strigoi. Rose lunged for one of the three staking it almost immediately. Christian meanwhile set flames to the others. The guardian's face reflected surprise, but that didn't stop him from staking another of the Strigoi. Rose finished off the other with ease.

"You shouldn't have brought him here," The man said as they moved to help another guardian. "Moroi aren't supposed to get involved with this."

"Moroi should have been involved with this a long time ago," said Christian through gritted teeth.

They fought for what seemed like hours, moving from fight to fight, combining his magic and her stake. Not all of the kills were as fast and easy as their early ones had been. Some fights were long and drawn out. The older man stuck with them, and Adrian could not believe the sheer number of Strigoi they took down. She was a killing machine—his little dhampir was absolutely lethal.

He watched a Strigoi with shoulder length blonde hair stalking Rose, watching her with covetous red ringed eyes. When the monster caught her attention, it snarled at her. "I know you."

She swung at him with her stake, but he dodged to the side. Christian was setting a couple of other Strigoi on fire, so Rose was completely on her own.

"There's something strange about you now, but I still remember. I saw you years ago, before I was awakened. You were always with that Dragomir girl, the blonde."

Rose kicked out, catching him in the chest and jerking back before he could grab her outstretched leg. He barely staggered as he stood, smiling at her.

"Her parents wanted you to be her guardian, right? Before they were all killed?"

"I am her guardian," Rose grunted, lashing out with her stake.

"She's still alive, then…There were rumors that she'd died last year…You have no idea what kind of reward I'd get to take down the last living Drag— Ahh!"

He'd dodged the stake from hitting his chest again, but this time Rose outsmarted him, following up with an upwards blow that dragged the stake's tip across his face. He screamed, but it didn't slow him down.

"I'll come back for you after I finish her," he snarled.

"You'll never get near her," Rose growled back.

A different Strigoi slammed into her side, knocking her off balance. Adrian screamed out in frustration as the colors began to bleed into one another, faster this time. He darted though them, praying he'd see Rose safe and sound on the other side.


	41. Zorya Utrennyaya

He would never become accustomed to the way stepping through a shifting vision felt. It was so… disturbing, almost like walking through a waterfall of thick, viscous, warm honey. He felt as if the melting colors were clinging to him and that he would emerge from the other side coated in a layer of slime. It didn't happen, but still, he kept expecting it.

He was relieved to see Rose still fighting. She was consumed with a battle lust that was wondrous to behold, punching and kicking; as he watched she dropped down, spinning, staking another Strigoi in a movement that was completely graceful and beautiful. He watched as the night wore on—she never seemed to tire in her dance of death. She was the ancient battle goddess Zorya Utrennyaya brought to life, her dark hair flaring out behind her like a black silken veil, her eyes shining with rage as she moved from one enemy to the next. Even covered with mud and gore, she was a vision.

He watched her with an artist's eye, committing every detail to memory. His mind saw the masterpiece he would create with the captioned prayer that his ancestors had uttered before going into battle. "Defend me, O Zorya, with your veil from the enemy, from the arquebus and arrow..."

She fought on, never faltering, until not a single Strigoi was standing. Ozera stood beside her, both breathless and sweaty, their eyes darting around, searching for their next victim.

"We gotta find another one," she said.

"There are no others," a familiarly accented voice called out.

Rose turned and looked at Belikov, her face transforming in an instant from that of a battle weary warrior to a woman in love. He still couldn't see her aura, but he would bet it was flashing with love and fear and relief. The emotions played across her face so rapidly Adrian almost couldn't catch them all. She looked as though she were about to throw herself on the battered, bloody man, not caring who might witness the reunion.

He stared back at her, their eyes locked, his face full of love and relief. Dimitri turned and gestured to the eastern sky. The horizon was pink and purple. It was nearly sunrise.

As the colors began to blur, Adrian uttered a curse. Stepping through the oozing blur, he noticed his hands were shaking. How many visions would he be forced to endure? He wanted to wake up. He wanted a drink. He wanted…

Well, this was interesting. Not a scene of battle, although evidence of carnage was everywhere. Belikov and Rose were walking through the forest, past a small cabin. Both seemed…tense, keeping their eyes straight ahead on the path before them. When Dimitri spoke a moment later, his voice was hesitant.

"Rose, about what happened—"

She groaned. "I knew it. I knew this was going to happen."

He glanced over at her, startled. "That what was going to happen?"

"This. The part where you give me the huge lecture about how what we did was wrong and how we shouldn't have done it and how it's never going to happen again."

What the hell was she talking about? What had they done that was… Oh no. Hell no. He wouldn't have…

He still looked shocked. "Why would you think that?"

"Because that's how you are," She sounded as if she was about to cry. "You always want to do the right thing. And when you do the wrong thing, you then have to fix it and do the right thing. And I know you're going to say that what we did shouldn't have happened and that you wish—"

Whatever she was about to say was cut off as Belikov wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his body in the shadow of a tree. Their lips met as if the kiss they shared was the only thing that mattered, as if they had to join together or else all would be lost. A hot wave of jealousy and longing raced through Adrian, flushing his skin and filling him with a slow burning rage. Finally, they broke apart, the Russian still pressing her up against his body.

"I don't think what we did was wrong," he said softly. "I'm glad we did it. If we could go back in time, I'd do it again."

Shit. He'd finally swallowed his upright morals and made love to Rose. Damn him to hell a thousand times over. Rose's soft, happy smile only made her more beautiful, twisting the knife Adrian felt in his heart.

"Really? What made you change your mind?"

"Because you're hard to resist," he said, amused. "And … do you remember what Rhonda said?"

Rhonda? The soothsayer at Court? What in God's name did she have to do with all this?

"Something about how you're going to lose something…"

"'You will lose what you value most, so treasure it while you can.'"

"Wait. You think I'm going to die? That's why you slept with me?" She looked upset.

Even though he'd already figured out that they'd been intimate, hearing her say it made it hurt a million times more. How did this happen? When? Obviously it was in the future. If he could just figure out the time frame, he might be able to avert it, to stop the travesty from happening in the first place. Rose was meant for him, damn it!

"No, no, of course not. I did what I did because … believe me, it wasn't because of that. Regardless of the specifics—or if it's even true—she was right about how easily things can change. We try to do what's right, or rather, what others say is right. But sometimes, when that goes against who we are…you have to choose. Even before the Strigoi attack, as I watched all the problems you were struggling with, I realized how much you meant to me. It changed everything. I was worried about you—so, so worried. You have no idea. And it became useless to try to act like I could ever put any Moroi life above yours. It's not going to happen, no matter how wrong others say it is. And so I decided that's something I have to deal with. Once I made that decision … there was nothing to hold us back." He hesitated, brushing her hair back as he gently ran the back of his fingers up and down her cheek. "Well, to hold me back. I'm speaking for myself. I don't mean to act like I know exactly why you did it."

"I did it because I love you," She said.

Adrian's heart, already cracked, shattered in a billion pieces. Yes, he knew she loved the other man, but to hear her say it—to hear Rose give Dimitri Belikov the words he himself so desperately wanted to hear her soft voice whisper in _his_ ear… It was complete and utter agony.

Belikov laughed. "You can sum up in one sentence what it takes me a whole speech to get out."

"Because it's that simple. I love you, and I don't want to keep pretending like I don't."

"I don't either." His hand dropped from her face and found her hand. Fingers entwined, they began walking again. "I don't want any more lies."

"Then what'll happen now? With us, I mean. Once all of this is done … with the Strigoi…" Rose asked, gazing up at him with a look of utter adoration.

"Well, as much as I hate to reinforce your fears, you were right about one thing. We can't be together again—for the rest of the school year, that is. We're going to have to keep our distance."

Her face fell into an adorable pout and she stared down at the ground. She sighed, leaning against him, leaning her head against his muscular upper arm.

Belikov smiled down at her for a moment, then stared off into the sky, his face thoughtful. "After you graduate and are out with Lissa …"

"You're going to ask to be reassigned, aren't you? You won't be her guardian."

"It's the only way we can be together," he said.

"But we won't actually be together," she pointed out.

Hell no, they wouldn't be together, not if Adrian had his way. Hell would freeze over before he let it happen. He'd have his aunt send Belikov back to Russia. He would have to obey a direct order from the queen—if he did he'd be forced to resign from guardian service altogether.

Belikov sighed. "Us staying with her gives us the same problem—me worrying more about you than her. She needs two guardians perfectly dedicated to her. If I can get assigned somewhere at Court, we'll be near each other all the time. And in a secure place like that, there's more flexibility with a guardian's schedule."

"Well," she said softly, "we might actually see more of each other if we're guarding different people. We can get time off together. If we were both with Lissa, we'd be swapping shifts and always be apart."

They looked at each other, their faces full of hope and joy. And love. For fucks sake, they were making him nauseous. They were almost out of the forest, back in sight of the others, when Belikov spoke again.

"You'll be eighteen soon, but even so…" He sighed. "When this comes out, a lot of people aren't going to be happy."

"Yeah, well, they can deal." Rose said, a fierce look on her face.

"I also have a feeling your mother's going to have a very ugly conversation with me."

"You're about to face down Strigoi, and my mother's the one you're scared of?"

His lips twitched. "She's a force to be reckoned with. Where do you think you got it from?"

True. Very, very true. Maybe when he woke up, Janine Hathaway needed to receive an anonymous call about her daughter screwing her mentor. After all, Hell hath no fury like an Ivashkov scorned.

Rose laughed. "It's a wonder you bother with me then."

"You're worth it, believe me." He kissed her again, using the last of the forest's shadows for cover.

They broke apart reluctantly and left the woods, heading back toward the guardians' building.

The colors started melting, but this time, Adrian didn't comply. He didn't want to see whatever came next. With his luck he'd walk straight in on Belikov and his little dhampire _in flagrante delicto._

He sank to the ground, refusing to take another step forward. It was time to wake up. He just needed to figure out how in the hell to do it.

* * *

_**A/N **_

_**Zorya Utrennyaya is a Russian/Slavic goddess depicted as a warrior goddess, fully armed and courageous, and was invoked to protect against death in battle with prayer.  
**_

_**She was the wife of Perun the war god and would accompany her husband into battle. In this role she was known to protect those warriors she favored against death by letting down her dark veil.**_

_**In addition, she was one of two Guardian goddesses known as the AURORAS. (Fitting for this story, don't you think?)**_


	42. The Death of a Soul

To his extreme irritation, apparently whatever powers that be ruled over fucked up dream-visions decided that it Mohammed wouldn't go to the mountain, then the mountain would damn well swallow Mohammed. The swirling waterfall of colors lashed out like a wave, rolling over his head and dragging his body forward. He fell for a brief moment, landing somewhere dark. As his eyes adjusted he scanned his surroundings, unable to contain a shudder—he recognized this place. He'd seen it before, it was one of the visions from the forgotten dream.

It was bone chillingly cold, the kind of temperature that ate away at you, slowly wearing you down. The darkness began to fade and sounds reached his ears, drawing him further into the tunnel, which opened into a cavern. A fire burned in one corner providing light. Adrian spun around, wondering why he was here, and what he would be forced to witness.

Part of a wall had fallen in, creating a pile of stones that blocked the opening to the other side of the cave. Seven guardians—including Belikov and Alberta—were trapped by ten Strigoi. There were flashes of light coming through the opening in the caved in wall, and he instinctively knew it was a Moroi fire user, probably Ozera. The floor was strewn with bodies, but he couldn't tell if they were Strigoi or not.

Rose and an adult male guardian raced towards the group of Strigoi, three of them immediately turning towards the newcomers. Two jumped the man, and the other went for Rose.

In an instant she was in battle mode. Her beautiful face took on a mask of pure rage, as she threw punches and ducked around, evading the Strigoi's blows. She stayed out of his reach mostly, though he did grab her once and slam her against the wall. She acted as though she felt nothing, moving immediately, her body still fluid and graceful, showing no sign she'd just been hurled into a sheet of solid rock. She reigned blows on him, pummeling his face and chest then slipped down staking him before his next attack. Pulling out the silver spike in one smooth motion, she turned to help the man who'd accompanied her—he'd taken out one of his attackers, and between them, they finished the last one.

That left six Strigoi. The trapped guardians—who were pinned—had killed another. The man and Rose jerked the Strigoi closest to them out of the circle. This one seemed to be a fighter, they had a hard time taking him down. Eventually they did, immediately looking for the next threat. The other guardians started freeing themselves from their trapped position, quickly taking down the remaining Strigoi one by one. When the Strigoi count was down to two, Alberta yelled out it was time to start escaping.

The last two Strigoi were surrounded, leaving a path clear for some of the guardians to escape via the way Rose had come in. Her companion, meanwhile, crawled through the hole to the other side.

With Rose relatively safe, Adrian turned his attention to the Russian. As furious as he was with the man, he had to admit he was amazing in battle. Like Rose, every movement he made was graceful, his face a mask of intense concentration, only his eyes betraying his rage. Watching he understood why the novices around campus called the man a God—Rose channeled the spirit of Zorya, and likewise Belikov overflowed with the spirit of Zorya's husband, Perun. He staked one of the two Strigoi, moving immediately to the remaining one, his movement an elegant twirl.

The man stuck his head back in and shouted something to Alberta that wasn't discernible to Adrian, even with his advanced Moroi hearing. She yelled something back without looking at him. She, Dimitri, and two others were closing in on the last Strigoi.

"Rose," yelled the guardian, beckoning her over.

She left the fray, scrambling through the hole more easily than he had, another guardian immediately following after her. Adrian walked towards the cave in, and stuck out his hand, not surprised when the wall of rock rippled. He placed himself directly in the middle of the thick fluid that made up the rocks, wanting to have a view on both sides of the barrier. No one was on the other side except Rose and the guardians who'd just crawled through. Apparently, the fight had either ended or moved on. Bodies showed that things had been intense, however. One of the bodies he recognized as one of the few guardians who'd always appeared cheerful. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he knew the fallen man's name. They were helping another guardian through the wall—it was Alberta.

"They're dead," she called. "It sounds like there are a few more blocking the retreat down here. Let's finish this before the sun comes up."

Belikov came last of all through the gap. He and Rose exchanged brief, relieved glances, and then they were on the move. This was a long tunnel, and they hurried down it, seeming anxious to get everyone out. At first, they encountered nothing, and then flashes of light indicated a fight up ahead. Ms. Carmack and Janine Hathaway were fighting three Strigoi. Belikov's group closed in, and in seconds, the Strigoi were down.

"That's it for this group," Janine gasped out. "But I think there are more here than we thought. I think they left some behind when they went to attack the school. The rest of our people—that survived—have already made it out."

"There are other branches in the cave," said Alberta. "Strigoi could be hiding in there."

Janine agreed. "They could be. Some know they're overwhelmed and are just going to wait us out and escape later. Others may come after us."

"What do we do?" Someone asked in a fearful voice. "Finish them off? Or retreat?"

Everyone looked to Alberta. Adrian watched the woman with a feeling of pride. She was his friend, and she was in charge. In his opinion, it looked like she was doing a damned good job.

She made a quick decision. "We retreat. We got as many as we could, and the sun is dropping. We need to get back behind the wards."

They took off, Dimitri beside Rose as they moved. "Did Eddie get out?" she whispered.

Shit. The Strigoi must have captured the Castile kid. Did that mean Lissa was in danger? He'd been playing her guardian.

"Yes," said Dimitri, breathing ragged. "We had to practically force him out. He wanted to fight."

"I remember this curve," Janine said as they rounded a corner. "It's not much farther. We should see light soon."

Rose's hand clenched at her stomach as the Strigoi attacked.

At a T intersection, seven Strigoi jumped them, three on one side and four on the other. One guardian never saw it coming—a Strigoi grabbed him and snapped his neck so quickly that it looked effortless. Rose doubled back, trying to throw herself into the fray. Fortunately, in Adrian's opinion, she was stuck in the back. Ms. Carmack was beside her, and she had enough visibility to light up a couple of the Strigoi, making it easier for the guardians involved in the fight to stake them.

Alberta caught a glimpse of Rose and the others, calling out to them. "Start retreating!"

Another guardian fell, and Rose stared at him, her face pale. In seconds Janine was on the Strigoi attacker, driving her stake through his heart.

Rose rounded another corner on the tail of three guardians. She'd made it. Adrian spun, looking back the way they'd come from—where were the others? Something wasn't right. Something was—

Moments later, Janine's party came tearing down the hall. By the numbers, one more had gone down. Rose stood staring, fear filling her brown eyes—she felt it too, the sense that something was about to happen. Tension flowed through every part of Adrian's body. He had a bad feeling. A very, very bad feeling. He tried to calm himself—this was just a dream, a vision. It could be averted. It hadn't happened yet.

Belikov and the others tore around the corner, his eyes searching the assembled faces. His worried expression turned into one of intense relief as soon as his eyes locked on Rose, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. He was so intent on her face that what happened next appeared to take him completely by surprise.

Three Strigoi lay in wait in one of the alcoves. It all happened so fast; no one could have reacted in time. One of the Strigoi grabbed Celeste, his mouth and fangs going for her cheek. She let out a strangled scream as blood sprayed everywhere.

One of the Strigoi went for Ms. Carmack, but Janine jerked her away and shoved her towards the group of guardians.

The third Strigoi grabbed Dimitri, who had just torn his gaze away from Rose. The bad feeling intensified, accompanied by an electric tingle that shot through Adrian's entire body. A Strigoi had caught Belikov by surprise, and that slight edge was all it had taken.

It was the blond Strigoi who had been taunting Rose in the battle.

He grabbed Dimitri and pulled him to the ground. They grappled, strength against strength, and then those fangs sank into Dimitri's neck. The red eyes flicked up and made contact with Rose's, and her screams began.

Rose let out a cry of unmitigated horror, immediately attempting to move back towards the cave, only to be restrained by Guardian Dick. Her cries kept on, unending, as if her heart were being ripped from her chest, increasing in volume as she called out his name, over and over again.

Adrian felt her pain as if it were his own, throwing himself through the vision, forcing his way back to Belikov's side. He forgot in that moment that this was a dream. He forgot that the fallen man was his nemesis. His sole thought was to save the man his Rosebud loved, the man she needed as desperately as she needed the air she breathed. He threw himself of the Strigoi, only to find himself falling through colors, rematerializing back outside the cave. He tried to move towards the cave again, but this time he found he couldn't move his feet, couldn't move a muscle, he was frozen in place, forced to watch the horror unfold before him.

Janine started to double back toward the fallen, but then five more Strigoi appeared. Indecision flashed over her features as she tried to decide to flee or fight, and then, regret won out—she kept running toward the exit.

"What are you doing, Rose? More are coming." Dick was trying to calm Rose down; she was fighting against him as if he were a Strigoi, trying to break free so she could rescue Belikov.

Janine and Alberta burst out, dragging Ms. Carmack. A group of Strigoi were after them, skidding to a halt just on the edge of the waning light. Rose was still fighting Stan. He didn't need the help, but her mother grasped a hold of her, tugging her away.

"Rose, we have to get out of here!"

"He's in there!" She screamed, her voice panicked as she strained against their hands. "Dimitri's in there! We have to go back for him! We can't leave him!"

Her mother shook her hard, leaning close. "He is dead, Rose! We can't go back in there. The sun will be down in fifteen minutes, and they are waiting for us. We're going to be in the dark before we can get back to the wards. We need every second we can get—it still may not be enough."

But he wasn't dead—Adrian could feel it. Not yet. The Strigoi was toying with him—keeping him as bait, trying to get Rose to come back in. Adrian attempted to call out, trying desperately to alert them, but no sound escaped him, no matter how loud he screamed.

They were sentencing him to death! He could be saved. They had to fight, damn it! Together they could all save him—

The Strigoi gathered at the entrance, their red eyes gleaming with anticipation. They completely filled the opening, at least a dozen of them. Rose's face was filled with horror.

"No! Dimitri!" Her scream was a lament, a dirge. She sounded as if her soul were dying.

Her mother slapped her. "Run!" she yelled. "He is dead! You are not going to join him!"

Rose stared at her with uncaring eyes, looking as if she would willingly run into the mass of Strigoi, embracing death, if it meant she could be by Belikov's side again. Tears streamed down her face. Adrian felt his own tears sliding free. He could feel Belikov in his head, like a second personality. He could feel the other man's thoughts racing, could hear them as if they were whispered in his ear in Dimitri's thick Russian accent. He could feel the other man's intense pain and great sorrow in each word.

'Don't scream. Scream and she'll come running back in. She's safe—Thank you God, she's safe. I love you, Roza. I love you so much, always. I'm sorry, so sorry, Roza. My beautiful—'

Adrian attempted to tear himself free, screaming out—begging them to do something. "HE'S ALIVE GODDAMN IT!"

"Run!" Janine cried again. Holding onto one of Rose's arms she nodded to Guardian Dick, who grabbed the other. They drug Rose from the clearing, with tears streaming down her face.

At that moment, he felt Dimitri Belikov's soul die.


	43. Trapped in a Nightmare

_**A/N: I have received a couple PM's expressing confusion over the last chapter, as well as the same question in a review. They all had a variation of the same question: **_

_**"I'm kind of confused...is Adrian watching this as it's happening, or is it still a vision of the future?"**_

_**It is a vision of the future. He is watching it IN A VISION.**_

_**In the real Frostbite, when Dimitri found Rose and Lissa in Adrian's room, he slipped into a trance of sorts, uttering "Young girls? Young girls? Sure. Young and old at the same time. They've barely seen anything in life, yet they've already seen too much. One's marked with life, and one's marked with death…" **_

_**To me, this indicated that Adrian might have the 'second sight' or the ability for prophecy as a side effect of spirit's madness.**_

_**I hope that clears up any confusion. At some point in the future I might try to rework the intro to the 'vision' sequence, since it seems confusing to some of you. Right now though, I just don't have time. I am taking time away from writing the final book in my trilogy to post this fan fiction—so for the time being, it must stand as is, errors and all. (Much as they disturb me! I print out a hard copy of each chapter to review when I have time, and I notice each and every booboo, trust me.) ;)**_

_**Thanks for reading—I hope everyone is enjoying Adrian's take on the series.**_

* * *

He was stuck. Ever since the last of the guardians had fled the scene, he'd been trying to escape, but his efforts were in vain. He knew time was flying by at an increased rate, he could tell by the shifting vision around him. Not that the place was changing—it was the moon. It's position had been steadily making its way across the sky. By his best estimate, several hours had passed, even though it had seemed like only twenty or thirty minutes. But who could really tell in a dream… vision… Whatever the hell this was that he was stuck in.

He'd spent the time trying to wake himself, to break free from the shackles that locked him in the dream. He was beyond desperate to return to reality—to wake up before he forgot all that he'd seen. He was so intent on his task, that at first, he failed to notice the alien feeling in his head. As it grew stronger, and he became more conscious of it, he ignored it, dismissing it as another facet of his dementia. That is, until it demanded his acknowledgement.

For all intents and purposes, whenever Adrian Ivashkov used spirit—for anything greater than compulsion—he visualized himself in a large, black… room. In fact, that was how he unconsciously pictured his mind; a large chamber that filled with his thoughts—or with his madness. And right now, a tiny corner of that room was…chilly, and growing colder by the second.

As soon as he realized that, he stopped trying to wake up. The new feeling troubled him. Never before had he felt this, not even when he was at his most unbalanced. His inner room was always pleasant, the perfect temperature, neither too hot nor too cold, the atmosphere calming him. What the hell was happening now? He was tired of this. He'd prefer another side trip to lala land as opposed to being stuck here with a frostbitten brain.

While he was trying to determine the sudden change, three things happened simultaneously. The temperature in the room dropped dramatically, becoming absolutely frigid. The atmosphere in the room went from soothing to foreboding. Finally, he heard—and mentally felt—a familiar voice. It was laced with a Russian accent— more pronounced and somehow harsher than he'd ever heard it before—screaming out "ROZA!"

Adrian froze, his eyes immediately locking on the cave's entrance. He only had to wait for a moment before the man appeared. Belikov. Dear God, he was Strigoi. And he was arguing with the blonde bastard that had changed him.

"You WILL listen to me—I'm the one who—"

The Russian cut him off, his voice cold and antagonistic. "I will not leave without her. She is my mate. She is my…" He stopped, tilting his head as if in search of the proper words. "She is mine. Always."

The blonde hissed like a great cat, launching himself towards the taller man, probably intent on teaching him a lesson.

It was a mistake.

Belikov sidestepped him easily, catching the older Strigoi in a headlock. His face was unemotional, even stonier than his guardian mask had been. "Say the word, Nathan, and I'll end you here and now. Nothing... No one will keep me from Roza."

Adrian stared in amazement. This shouldn't be happening. Belikov shouldn't be able to overpower an older Strigoi, especially not the one who made him. It was impossible. It was—

"If you want her you'll have to awaken her. She can't remain a dhampir." Nathan choked out. "You'll need me for that, you've only just risen as Strigoi—you won't be able to do it alone."

Dimitri froze. His face… changed, just for an instant. He looked broken hearted. In an instant the look was gone, the mask back in place. A cunning, predatory smile curled up his lips, then twitched back into a frown as the mask slipped yet again. Adrian closed his eyes, concentrating on the cold corner in his head, wondering if somehow, he could…

Yes… it was there. He heard the faintest echo of the thoughts racing through the other man's head. He was at war with himself, almost as if two different personalities were fighting for dominance. One was determined to Awaken Rose—the other horrified by the thought, wanting to protect her. The first was determined to have her by his side, where she belonged. The second longed for her just as much, but was determined to get as far away as possible, ensuring her safety.

Good Lord. He realized he was listening in as some trapped, inner part of Dimitri's conscious—his heart or soul or spirit—attempted to battle the demon that had laid claim to his body. Adrian's eyes shot open and he resumed his efforts to wake up. He had to warn them. Had to stop this. Almost as if his frenzied thrashing were visible, Belikov's red ringed eyes locked on the place where he was trapped. They narrowed for a moment, before he shoved the blonde away, stalking towards the very spot where Ivashkov stood.

Adrian pulled in spirit—more than he'd ever attempted before. If filled him like a deluge of scalding water, and he screamed out as intense pain smashed into him. It felt as if he were caught in a hydraulic press—the most intense pain he'd ever felt. As the scream left his lips the colors began to run, swirling around him like a massive tornado. One minute he was staring at Strigoi Belikov, the next he was back in the dream version of his living room, with the Russian shaking him by the shoulders. He slapped at the other man's hands, not realizing for a moment, that it was the regular, everyday Dimitri that had him by the arms, and not the horrifying version of walking, talking death that he'd morphed into.

"Adrian! Adrian—stop!"

"You… Strigoi… Cavern… It was…" He realized the was babbling, but couldn't stop himself. He was panting as the pain receded, struggling to catch his breath.

"Calm down," Belikov said. "We're still in a dream, only a dream, Adrian."

"NO!" He lashed out with spirit, funneling it into his body again, forgetting what had happened only a few moments before. Shoving it into the other man, determined to make him listen, he attempted to use yet another of the newly discovered powers. He hadn't read that much on dream compulsion, but now was a perfect time to attempt it. He had to make Belikov listen, to understand… to believe. Adrian visualized the current once again flowing between them, flowing between their thoughts. He pictured the ebb and flow of—

Instantly the crushing pressure was back, capturing him in a vice of sheer agony. "Belikov—" He coughed, choking as a bright red spray of blood fountained from his mouth, painting the other man with droplets of red. "It was—"

His world abruptly went dark as he collapsed forward, into Dimitri Belikov's arms.

* * *

He became self-aware before he woke up—that is to say, he couldn't open his eyes, no matter how desperately he tried, even though he'd become aware of his surroundings. He heard the irritating beeps of a heart monitor; smelled the sharp biting scent of disinfectant. He knew he must be in the clinic, but he had no idea how he'd gotten there.

In the distance he heard a door open, followed by the sound of light footfalls approaching his bedside.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. He was coughing up blood. Doctor Olendzki's not sure why he hasn't come around yet. It's been over an hour." Belikov's deep voice sounded worried.

That gave Adrian a momentary pause. Why was the Russian worried about him? They hated each other. A faint warmth caught his attention; it was accompanied by a familiar electrical tingle. His eyes shot open, meeting with a pair of jade green ones that were full of concern.

"Welcome back." Lissa said, smiling

"Damn it Lissa!" His voice sounded raspy. "You didn't have to do that!"

She rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand. "Yes I did."

"I would have been fine. I was just… resting."

"What happened? Was it spirit? I told you those new powers were too dangerous—that's why you collapsed, isn't it? You were trying them again." She accused.

His eyes flicked away from hers, meeting Belikov's. A silent warning seemed to pass from Adrian to the other man—the Russian's jaw tensing as he gave a small almost indiscernible nod. Good, he wasn't going to tell, nice to know that whatever other faults he might have, Dimitri wasn't a snitch.

A sharp voice accompanied by a tight squeeze on his hand demanded his attention. "Look at me Adrian."

Sighing, he dramatically rolled his eyes her way, smirking at the frustrated look she was giving him. She was probably trying to look intimidating, but it just wasn't working for her. An angry kitten probably looked more fierce than Lissa at her worst.

"What?"

"Did you try it again? Is that what happened."

"Lissa—"

She cut him off. "Did you actually read the case notes Adrian? Before you attempted any of it?"

He really didn't appreciate her snotty tone of voice. He wasn't a damn child. "Of course I read them."

"Thoroughly?"

"Lissa, I just fucking said I read them."

"That's not what I asked."

He sighed. "Fine. I skimmed them. What the hell does it matter?"

"If you'd taken the time to read everything, you wouldn't be asking me that. You'd know that if any of those… tasks are attempted—especially reading someone's thoughts—and not performed correctly, it can form a…" She paused, looking worried. "Well, a link, between your mind and the mind you attempted to contact."

Adrian stared at her, wide eyed as he processed her words. What the hell was she getting at? That he had somehow opened up a line of…

Fuck.


	44. Risk

"What the hell do you mean a link? Like the bond between you and Rose?" His voice betrayed his growing sense of unease. He'd memorized exactly what was required to achieve the desired effect. What did it matter if he didn't read every single word—he'd gotten the basics right.

Lissa frowned. "No, nothing that strong. The way it was described was more like an inadvertent… bridge, between your mind and theirs. It's not something that's always there, but it might appear when you aren't consciously thinking about it. Does that make sense?"

"No."

She sighed. "Look, the warning was really vague. The important thing is you can't try it again. Who knows what could happen if you mess up? Reading over those notes…well, they listed some strange things." She paused, chewing at her bottom lip. "Was it Rose? Is that why you've been having visions about her?"

"Don't I wish—it would have been a lot more pleasurable with my little dhampire there in her red bikini."

Belikov—who'd remained silent throughout the discussion—made a low, threatening sound. Lissa glanced over at him, seeming confused by his reaction. Her brow furrowed, as if she were attempting to puzzle something out.

"How do I get rid of the link? If it appears, that is." He asked, trying to divert her attention from Belikov's possessive outburst.

"Um, I don't know if you can. What were you doing, before you passed out?"

"Absolutely nothing." She shot him a skeptical look, which he chose to ignore. "Seriously, Lissa. I fell asleep on the couch. The next thing you know, I was in a spirit dream—but I didn't create it. Not consciously, anyway. The… uh… test subject got pulled in with me."

"This is exactly why I said we shouldn't mess around with things that weren't well documented, Adrian."

"You know cousin, nobody likes an 'I told you so'."

"I better start going through the books again." Belikov stood up, but Lissa waved him off. "Christian and Eddie are waiting for me, I don't need an escort Guardian Belikov. I'll stop by your room later if I find anything, Adrian."

As soon as the door shut, the Russian glared at him. "What did you see?"

He stared up at the ceiling, searching his thoughts. It didn't really matter, did it? The phrase 'just a dream' kept replaying in his head, over and over again. Everything else was gone. Again.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. "I remember everything up to the point were you got pissy with me. After that, nothing. What happened? How did I end up here?"

Belikov sat back down, rubbing his forehead. "In the dream, I was yelling at you and you… froze. The look on your face was similar to the one Rose gets when she's in the Princess's head. You started mumbling things. Not sentences, just random words. A short while later you began screaming, so I shook you. When you woke, you were…"

"Crazy?" Adrian interjected, smirking.

"Yes. I think you attempted to use compulsion on me. After you coughed up blood and blacked out, I woke up. You were thrashing on the couch, bleeding from your mouth and nose. I brought you here." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of his coat. "While the doctor looked you over, I wrote down the words you said. The ones I could remember."

He watched as Belikov attempted to smooth the paper out. His curiosity was peaked—this was the first time anyone had bothered to jot down any of his insane commentary. None of it really mattered anyway, the Russian was reading way too much into the situation. It had just been a damned dream.

"Strigoi. Rose. Fire. Rocks. Allie. Look out. Rose. Save him. Fight. He's still alive. She's screaming. Help him." Dimitri looked at him expectantly as he folded the list, returning it to his pocket.

"Interesting."

"What do they mean, Adrian? What did you see?"

He sat up. "I already told you I don't remember."

"This afternoon you claimed you'd had a prophecy and Roza was in danger—that it was a matter of life and death. Try to remember."

"Fuck, I don't know!" His temper flared. "More likely than not it's nothing, Belikov. I'm crazy, remember? Hell, when I was at Alder I chased my Slavic Arts professor around the room trying to clock him with a textbook because I had an insane vision that he was a giant praying mantis and needed to be squished. That vision wasn't real and neither is this. It was just a dream. You told me that, remember?"

"And at Alder, you collapsing right after you had the vision? Coughed up blood?"

"Look—whatever screwed up thing spirit did to pull you into my dream was too much. There was too much spirit funneling though me. My body couldn't handle it." He stared at the other man, bored with the line of questioning.

"That doesn't sound plausible. Why would—"

"Fuck plausible!" He interrupted. "I've got the weirdest frigging element imaginable. No one knows what it's capable of. Every day Lissa and I discover more and more things it can do. This," he gestured towards his bloodstained clothes, "is nothing."

"You were positive it was a prophecy, Adrian." Belikov's voice was soft, his aura filled with worry.

Adrian lay back, returning his gaze to the ceiling. He wanted a drink. Now. "I was mistaken. It was just a jacked up nightmare, probably brought on because I haven't been drinking enough. Alcohol withdrawal can cause hallucinations, you know."

"What if you're wrong? Are you willing to risk that? Try and remember, please. Tell me what you dreamed, just in case."

Adrian glared over at the other man. "There's nothing to tell. I had a nightmare and I don't remember it. End of story."

Belikov's eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing. "Fine. If anything does happen—if Rose gets hurt—it's on your head Ivashkov. I hope you can live with that."

"Fine. Now get out." Adrian closed his eyes, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that Dimitri's parting words had sparked inside of him.

* * *

The rest of the week passed slowly. Lissa had no luck finding further information in the library, despite spending hours perusing the stacks. Since he had no more fucked up nightmares and no more weird dreams that pulled Belikov in, he wasn't concerned with the lack of progress. The gnawing feeling remained with him, making him feel… guilty, but he didn't know why the Russian's words had that effect on him. To be honest, he continually pushed the entire situation out of his mind, spending a couple days indulging—he went on binge, drinking until his liver actually hurt. At that point, deciding he'd indulged enough, he vowed to spend the next few days sober, giving his body time to recuperate. He fell into bed and slept for sixteen hours straight.

Surprisingly enough, he woke up in a good mood. It got even better when he realized Lissa had left him a message, inviting him to come watch movies after dinner—she made a point to mention that Rose would be there. Glancing at the clock he saw it was almost dinner time. If he hurried, he might catch up with Rose in the commons. The fact he hadn't bothered to check on her in several days brought back the feeling of guilt. He showered and was out the door in record time.

He saw Rose and Lissa walking in the distance and hurried to catch up with them. They seemed to be laughing, which was always a good sign—it meant Rose would be in a good mood. A male dhampir approached them, stopping the girls in their tracks—making it easier for him to lessen the distance separating them. As he drew closer, he noticed three guardians wearing all black sneaking up on the group. He chuckled to himself—one of them was Belikov.

Rose must have sensed them, because she didn't even hesitate. Throwing herself between Lissa and the first attacker—a woman—she lashed out as soon as the figure advanced with a blow to the face. As the guardian staggered back, another figure moved in. Something in Adrian's memory clicked as he gazed at the man. Closing his eyes his breathing quickened as the image of the man's dead body flashed behind his eyelids. What the fuck? He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the fight, refusing to acknowledge the gruesome vision.

Rose kicked the woman in the stomach, knocking her into the man, and they both stumbled. In that brief moment, Rose pulled out her practice stake and aimed for her heart. She hit the mark, and the woman immediately stepped aside. The other guardian moved in on her again, and they began exchanging blows. Adrian glanced at Belikov and the young dhampir—the later was getting his ass handed to him. From the corner of his eye he saw Rose wiggle out of her attacker's grip. Quick as a flash, she staked him.

Rose turned toward the remaining threat, watching as the novice sparred with his attacker. Adrian smirked when he glanced at her aura. Rose might not know who the remaining guardian was—which was ridiculous considering the fact Belikov was the only giant on campus—but it sure did. It was reaching out to the Belikov, and his was doing the same towards her. He returned his attention to the fight, his eyes flicking from time to time to assess their auras. Belikov knew Rose was there, and was trying to impress her. Of course, it wasn't a hard task, the novice he was battling was absolutely worthless.

Rose threw herself forward and shoved the boy out of the way. As she faced off with her opponent, their auras blazed like solar flares. She sprang toward him with the stake, but he was too fast. It was like he knew what she was going to do before she actually did it. He halted her attack with a glancing blow to the side of her head. Adrian was incensed until he saw the man felt remorse. He bit his tongue, remembering this was a test of his little dhampir's abilities. He moved closer, not wanting to miss a second of the action. A crowd of people had slowly begun to form—Belikov and Rose were celebrities in their own way, both known as being the best of the best. The whole mentor-student thing also added to the drama. Hell, add in the fact they were in love, and this became prime-time entertainment—to those who were in the know, that is. He let his eyes drift across the crowd and spotted Alberta. He raised a hand motioning her over, and in less than a minute, she was at his side.

"Care to make a wager?"

"A hundred on Rose," she said.

"Shit. That's a sure thing, Allie."

Belikov and Rose were in their own little world, their eyes locked on each other. As they tested each other, attacking and blocking, Adrian couldn't help but laugh. Alberta shot him a look and he leaned towards her, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Their auras. I expected to see aggression, maybe concentration."

Alberta raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"There both there, but overriding it all is a tidal wave of lust, from both of them." He smirked at the surprised look on her face as she processed his words. A minute later, she was laughing along with him.

Rose's expression changed, and with it, her fighting style. Just as Belikov had anticipated her moves, now she began to do the same to him. They truly were amazing to watch—they were separate sides of the same coin, almost too well matched. Both were covered in sweat, but neither showed the slightest hint of tiring.

In an instant, Belikov got through her guard. He moved in for an attack, throwing the full force of his body into Rose. She blocked the worst of it, but stumbled from the impact, losing her footing. He didn't waste the opportunity and dragged her to the ground, trying to pin her.

Rose shoved her elbow up and nailed him in the face, making him flinch. Latching onto the opening, she rolled him over and held him down. He fought to push her off, and she pushed right back—the sight brought back Adrian and Alberta's giggles. The way they were writhing against each other looked entirely too suggestive.

Finally, Rose brought her stake down over his heart. Everyone started clapping, but neither of the fighters appeared to notice. Their gazes were locked, Rose still straddling him, her hands pressed against his chest. Both of them were sweaty and breathing heavily, looking as if they'd spent the last hour engaged in… other activities. Adrian elbowed Alberta as Rose leaned forward—someone needed to break this up. Their expressions were anything but professional, filled with lust and longing, as if they were about to attack each other in a completely different way. Alberta made a gesture towards the other two guardians, and the female walked forward, grabbing Roses hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Well done," said the man. "You took down all three of us. That was textbook perfect."

Belikov was on his feet now—Rose looked pointedly at the other two guardians, which was the smartest thing she could do, considering they'd been about to suck face in front of half the student body.

"I hope … I hope I didn't hurt any of you," she said. Her statement was rewarded with friendly laughter.

"That's our job," said the female guardian. "Don't worry about us. We're tough." She glanced at Belikov. "She got you pretty good with her elbow."

Dimitri rubbed his face near his eye. Adrian glanced at their auras and found himself wishing that Rose's elbow had broken the Russian's straight nose. "The student surpasses the teacher," he joked. "Or stakes, rather."

"I'd keep an eye on them, Allie," he whispered. "The lust is still there, growing stronger by the minute. It's overshadowing every other emotion in their auras."

She slapped his arm. "Let it go Ivashkov. I trust him."

Adrian watched as Rose and Dimitri stared at each other, and another vision flickered in his head. He saw the couple pressed against a tree, embracing and discussing the fact they'd been intimate. He was so intent on the images in his mind he didn't realize Alberta was talking to him—until she grabbed his face.

"Adrian? Are you alright?"

He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, almost hyperventilating. As he struggled to catch his breath, he kept hearing Belikov's voice echo in his mind. Over and over, like a record stuck in a groove. _'What if you're wrong? Are you willing to risk that? Try and remember, please. Tell me what you dreamed, just in case.'_

The memories were returning, slowly but surely. Unfortunately he had the horrible feeling that time was running out.


	45. Burning Bright

For a few minutes, he was caught in the grips anxiety, knowing something bad was coming, but unsure of exactly where the danger might lie. Alberta's soothing voice slowly helped him push past the hysteria, her hands smoothed the hair back from sweat covered face, making him feel safe. By the time the panic attack receded, the crowd had dispersed.

"Th- Thanks, Allie."

She gazed into his eyes, apparently reassured by what she saw. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I had… a bad feeling. Like a premonition." He shook his head, unsure of how much he should tell her.

"About what? It might help if you get it off your chest, Adrian."

He ran his hands through his hair and began pacing. "That's just it. I don't remember. Twice I've had dreams about something horrible, but when I wake up, I have no idea what I dreamed. Just a lingering feeling of… malice."

Alberta studied his face, chewing at her bottom lip. "Is that why you collapsed the other day?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "All I do know is I feel this sense of urgency. As if time is running out. God, Allie, what do I do?" He felt his eyes fill with frustrated tears and ducked his head, not wanting her to see them. He felt the panic clawing at his insides as his voice increased in volume. "What if someone gets hurt? What if I have the opportunity to… help, but I'm so fucked up that—"

The feeling of her hand cracking across his cheek stunned him into silence. He stared at her, shocked. For the first time in his life, Adrian Ivashkov was speechless.

"Sorry, you were getting hysterical." She grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the clinic. "You need something to keep you calm."

Jerking his arm free, he scowled at her. "That's the last thing I need. If I take a downer, I won't be able to use my magic. I have to be able to access spirit if I have any hope of—" He stared at her. "Where did Lis—Princess Vasilisa go?"

"I think Rose said something about meeting her at dinner." She frowned. "To be honest, I was too busy trying to keep you upright to pay much attention to what they were saying."

Reaching out her grabbed her arms, pulling her closer and planting a loud kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Allie. You're a lifesaver." Chuckling at her stunned expression, he set out across the quad, heading for the cafeteria.

* * *

She wasn't there. None of them were. The sense of doom within him doubled, churning like acid within his stomach. Where was everyone?

He had just exited through the cafeteria's huge double doors and was making his way down the hallway when a familiar voice called out, halting him in his tracks.

"Ivashkov!"

Ozera. Where he was, Lissa would be. He turned, his face taking on a confused expression when the younger man launched himself forward, almost knocking him off his feet.

"Christian? What the fuck man?"

"Where's Lissa? I know she was with you!"

"No she wasn't. I've been looking—"

"Bullshit. She didn't come to dinner. The only time she forgets to meet me is when she's _practicing magic_ with you." He put as much sarcasm into the words 'practicing magic' as he could.

"I swear I haven't seen her since—"

Christian's face was filled with barely contained fury as he cut him off yet again. "I knew you couldn't be trusted you sneaky son of a bitch!"

"Hey! Don't bring my mother into this—at least she didn't voluntarily—" He bit back the hateful words at the last minute, not wanting to hurt the kid. "What's your problem, Ozera?"

"So how were you planning on getting me out of the way, Ivashkov? Were you gonna use some of your freaky compulsion to make her dump me?" Christian's breathing quickened, and his eyes seemed lit from some inner fire, the blue so vibrant that it reminded Adrian of a gas flame.

"I have no idea what you're—"

"Cut the shit. I know all about you and your bitch of an aunt's plan. You're trying to take Lissa away from me!"

Adrian fought not to roll his eyes. Holy hell. Now? Seriously? Did the universe have to fuck up his day even more? Wasn't it enough that he was trying to —potentially—save someone from some mysterious danger?

Castile appeared out of nowhere, stepping in between them and placing a palm on each of their chest, gently widening the gap between them. "Chill out guys. Come on."

Adrian glanced around, irritated that their outburst had attracted a rather large crowd of curious onlookers. With relief, he noticed a familiar 5'7 female form forcing her way through the tightly packed bodies that had surrounded them.

Shoving people aside, Rose hurried over to Eddie's side, a fierce scowl on her pretty face. "What the hell's going on?"

"No idea." Eddie raised his eyebrows, glancing at Christian.

"How long did you think you could get away with it?" he exclaimed. "Did you seriously think everyone would keep buying your act?"

Adrian tried to keep his cool, but he didn't have time for schoolyard brawls. He was running out of fucking time. "Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about. Can we please just go sit down and discuss this reasonably?"

"Sure. Of course you'd want that. You're afraid I might do this." Christian held up his hand, and a ball of flame danced over his palm, glowing bright orange with a deep blue core. The crowd around them gasped to see him do something they all considered taboo thing. Christian smirked. "What have you got to fight back with? Plants?"

"If you're going to go start fights for no reason, you should at least do it the old-fashioned way and throw a punch," Adrian offered.

"No," interrupted Eddie. "No one's going to set anyone on fire. No one's going to punch anybody. There's been some huge mistake."

"What is it?" Rose demanded. "What happened?"

"Your friend there thinks I'm planning to marry Lissa and carry her off into the sunset." He said, green eyes still locked on Christian's blue ones. Eyes… something about eyes… Someone's eyes changing… Christian spoke, making him lose the thread that he'd almost grasped.

"Don't act like it's not true," growled Christian. "I know it is. It's been part of your plan—yours and the queen's. She's been backing you the whole time. Coming back here…the whole studying thing … it was a scam to get Lissa away from me and tied to your family instead."

"Do you have any idea how paranoid you sound?" He asked. "My great-aunt has to manage the entire Moroi government! Do you think she really cares about who's dating who in high school—especially with the state of affairs lately? Look, I'm sorry about all the time I've spent with her…we'll find her and figure this out. I really wasn't trying to get between you. There's no conspiracy going on here." Not on his part, anyway. He wanted no part of Tatiana's stupid schemes.

"Yes, there is," said Christian. He glanced over at Rose with a scowl "Isn't there? Rose knows. Rose has known for a while about this. She even talked to the queen about it."

"That's ridiculous," said Adrian. Surely Rose hadn't discussed her meeting with the boy. Even she wasn't that reckless. She would have asked to hear his side first. "Right?"

"Well …" Rose bit her lip. "Yes and no."

"See?" asked Christian triumphantly.

The fire flew from his hand, but Eddie and Rose jumped into motion at the same time. People screamed. Eddie grabbed Christian, forcing the fire to fly high. Meanwhile, Rose's arms encircled Adrian as she grabbed him and slammed his body to the ground.

"Glad you care," he muttered, wincing. His head had smacked the floor with a painful thud, and he was seeing stars.

"Compel him," she whispered, pulling him to his feet. "We need to sort this out without someone spontaneously combusting."

Eddie was trying to restrain Christian from leaping forward. Rose joined in, grabbing a hold of one arm to help. He didn't want to approach Ozera, he looked like he'd gone around the bend, but Rosebud was right. This had to be ended, and quickly. Christian tried to jerk free but his strength was nothing when compared to the two dhampirs at his side. Adrian leaned over Christian trying to catch him in a web of compulsion. As soon as the icy blue eyes locked on his, the kid was screwed.

"Christian, stop this. Let's talk."

Christian struggled a little against his restraints, but slowly, his face went slack and his eyes started to glaze over.

"Let's talk about this," repeated Adrian.

"Okay," said Christian.

There was a collective sigh of disappointment from the crowd. He'd used his compulsion smoothly enough that no one suspected. It had looked as though Christian had simply seen reason. As the crowd dispersed, Eddie and Rose released Ozera enough to a lead him over to far corner where we could talk in private. As soon as Adrian broke the gaze, Christian's face filled with fury, and he tried to leap at the older Moroi. Thank God Eddie and Rose were already holding on. He didn't move.

"What did you just do?" exclaimed Christian. Several people down the hall glanced back, no doubt hoping there'd be a fight after all. Rose shushed loudly in his ear. He flinched. "Ow."

"Be quiet. Something's wrong here, and we need to figure it out before you do something stupid."

"What's wrong," Christian said, glaring over at him, "is that they're trying to break up Lissa and me, and you knew about it, Rose."

Adrian, deciding to play dumb, glanced at Rose. "Did you really?"

"Yeah, long story." She turned back to Christian. "Look, Adrian didn't have anything to do with this. Not intentionally. It was Tatiana's idea—and she hasn't even actually done anything yet. It's just her long-term plan—hers alone, not his."

"Then how did you know about it?" demanded Christian.

"Because she told me—she was afraid that I was moving in on Adrian."

"Really? Did you defend our love?" Adrian asked sarcastically.

"Be quiet," she hissed. "What I want to know, Christian, is who told you?"

"Ralf," he said, looking uncertain for the first time..

"You should have known better than to listen to him," remarked Eddie, face darkening at the name.

"Except, for once, Ralf was actually telling the truth—aside from Adrian being in on it. Ralf's related to the queen's best friend," Rose explained.

"Wonderful," said Christian. He seemed to finally be calming down, so Eddie and Rose released him. "We've all been played."

Rose's eyes widened as she considered her words, her brow furrowing as she glanced around the hallway. "Where's Lissa? Why didn't she stop all of this?"

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "You tell us. Where is she? She didn't come to dinner."

"I can't. …" Rose frowned, a fearful look on her face. "I can't feel her."

Adrian's eyes darted to the other men. Any thoughts about their disagreement went out the window as a wave of tension surrounded them.

"Is she asleep?" asked Eddie.

"I can tell when she's asleep…This is something different…" Rose's face was pinched as she concentrated. "There she is. She was— oh God!"

Her scream rang down the hall, and everyone turned around, staring at their ragtag group. A moment later she was in motion, calling back over her shoulder. "Northwest side of campus, between that weird-shaped pond and the fence!"

Eddie was on her heels, leaving Adrian and Christian to stare after them in shock. Ozera recovered first, grabbing Adrian's hand and jerking him in the direction Rose and Eddie had gone. Adrian ripped his arm free as they ran, already struggling to breathe after only going a few feet. He couldn't help but think that whatever was happening to Lissa was somehow related to the dreams. A tingling sensation in his head let him know that—unfortunately—for once, he was right.

What the fuck was going on now?

* * *

_**A/N Sorry that I didn't update yesterday. I always post one or two chapters a day, but I've had a killer headache all weekend, which is not, I'm sorry to say, conducive to writing. I did not check this chapter for errors, so if you spot any, I apologize. I'll go back and spot check it at a later date.**_

_**Also, I reviewed all the chapters or boo-boos, fixing the ones I noticed. For some reason, when I uploaded the chapters from word, the Doc Manager screwed them up, erasing words and sometimes a sentence or over the weekend I printed everything out, made corrections and re-uploaded. I even added in a few new things here and there. Just a heads up.  
**_

_**Again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews and PMs. They really make my day.  
**_

_**Blessings!**_


	46. Devouring Darkness

They lost sight of Eddie and Rose almost immediately. The dhampirs were fast—too damn fast, in Adrian's opinion. Christian determinedly ran on, headed towards what he assumed was the Northwest side of the school property. His lungs were burning within the first few minutes, his breath coming in wheezing gasps. Ozera didn't seem to notice—or care—not bothering to slow down in the slightest.

A group of guardian's lead by Belikov passed him if he were standing still, moving through the trees like silent predators. The Russian glanced over his shoulder at them, his face showing the faintest touch of worry.

"Johnson, Brown—take them back to their rooms." His tone left no room for arguments, he didn't even wait for affirmation. Dimitri disappeared into the trees, the other guardians following on his heels like a group of well-trained dogs.

"Fuck that!" Christian glared as two guardians—presumably Johnson and Brown—dropped back form the group. "Lissa's in trouble!"

"Which is why you need to come with us, Lord Ozera. You need to stay out of the way and let the guardians do their job." The man—a tall sandy haired dhampir—strode towards them with a determined look on his face. His partner branched out, flanking them from the other side.

Adrian knew what Christian was planning before he attempted it. As soon as the man latched onto his arm, the sleeve of his jacket burst into flame. The guardian jerked back, stunned, his partner rushing over and attempting to put out the fire.

Sighing, he stepped forward, catching the younger man in his gaze and shoving spirit into his mind. Ozera's eyes—which had been bright with anger—dulled over as the compulsion hooked its claws in both his conscious and sub-conscious mind. Once he knew he had him, Adrian spoke softly, struggling to make his voice sound calm, betraying none of the anxiety he felt inside. inside. "We need to go with them, Christian. Lissa would want you to cooperate with the guardians."

"I'll cooperate." Christians anger drained out of him instantaneously. He nodded passively, turning towards the angry dhampirs.

"Thank you Lord Ivashkov." The blonde man glanced over at him as he reclaimed Christian's arm. Adrian opened his mouth to answer when a strange, flickering light in the corner of his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned, his green eyes widening as he stared up into the sky.

In the distance, he saw the bright golden glow of Lissa's aura, flashing with orange. As he watched, other colors joined the first, brilliant flickers of gamboge and warm amber. Surrounding it all was an rapidly glowing cloud of darkness, rolling and swelling until it looked as if it would swallow the trees and everything they sheltered beneath their boughs. He could feel its crushing weight pressing against him even at a distance, making him take a few involuntary steps backwards. He understood what that cloud represented, and it terrified him to the depths of his soul.

Madness.

Lissa had pulled in too much spirit, and it was eating away at her, driving her past the point of no return. She was falling down the rabbit hole, never to return. Good God, what in the hell had she been doing?

His attention was pulled away from the lightshow by the touch of a hand against his arm. "Lord Ivashkov?"

"You will forget about me. Take Lord Ozera to the clinic. The Princess will be there soon." He hoped. Staring into the man's eyes, he could somehow feel Lissa's darkness growing around her aura, still expanding, as if it would consume the entire world. As soon as he felt his compulsion take hold, he switched his gaze to the other guardian, repeating his orders. Only when the men set out, keeping Christian between them did he return his attention to the horrific vision painted across the tree tops.

The blackness was… almost sparkling now, as if it were lit from within with tiny twinkling lights. It was twisting and turning, sliding towards the right, almost like…

No. Oh fuck, No.

It was moving in the exact same manner he'd witnessed in the library—when Rose pulled it into her own aura. She was doing it again, in an attempt to save Lissa's mind. Only this time, it would be too much. His little dhampire… His Rosebud would fall into the darkness and never be able to fight her way free. Unless it found an outlet, it would corrode her mind and—

An outlet. She needed an outlet. Someone familiar with the madness might be able to take a portion of it, and save her. Somehow.

Adrian Ivashkov kept his eyes above the trees as he began to run, heading straight for the dark cloud. As he drew closer, he could almost feel black tentacles reaching out to him. Almost as if it were welcoming him home.

* * *

Within ten minutes the black cloud had receded, no longer visible in the sky. It left him without a concrete destination, so he chose to continue heading in the same direction he'd been traveling—trusting he would eventually find them. He had no idea how long he'd been running, all he knew was that his body ached and his legs felt like they were about to quit working. The entire time he'd been struggling through the trees, he'd been hearing Rose scream inside his head. He had been seeing dead, lifeless bodies staring at him from the dark room inside his head.

The sound of a large group of people traipsing through the brush at a rapid pace, pulled him out of his thoughts, filling him with relief and stopping him in his tracks. He caught his breath as they came into view—it was a large group of guardians and students heading towards the academy. Two guardians carried the Zeklos boy, who seemed to be unconscious. He was covered in blood, one arm dangling at an unnatural angle. Adrian forced his eyes away from the gruesome sight, searching the assembled faces for the only person he wanted to see—Rose. He didn't see her, but he spotted Lissa towards the back, surrounded by guardians. She was sobbing as if her heart had been broken, causing his relief to drain away, replaced by a growing sense of panic. Was he too late? Only one thing could upset Lissa Dragomir to this extent—something happening to Rose.

She caught sight of him, breaking away from the crowd and hurling herself into his arms. "Adrian! Oh God, Rose, she—"

"What?" He cut her off, the frantic tone in her voice increasing his anxiety. Holding her at arm's length he studied her face, praying Rosebud was still alive.

"She's insane! She tried to kill Jesse!"

"Where is she?"

"Nobody could control her, she was too strong. Not even Eddie—he could barely hold her back! Then Guardian Belikov came and—"

"We need to get you to the clinic, Princess." Alberta's voice was firm as she and another female dhampir approached them.

Lissa allowed herself to be reclaimed by the tall woman, shooting him a desperate look as they led her away. Adrian's eyes locked with Alberta's, searching for the answers Lissa had yet to provide.

"Is she dead?"

Alberta took his arm, leading him a few feet away from the others. "No, but… I don't know what's wrong with her, Adrian. She was acting—"

"Insane." He offered sarcastically. "Yes, the Princess told me. As for what's wrong with her, she took the darkness from Lissa."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, Guardian Petrov, she did what she always does. Put Lissa first." He pulled out a cigarette, trying to ignore the fact his hands were shaking so bad he could barely light it. "Spirit users run the risk of… becoming mentally unstable every time they use spirit. It's the flipside of the coin. We can heal, do amazing things, but our element has a price. The darkness. The insanity. You've seen it when it's hit me—the other day, when we were going to your office, for example. Whatever Lissa was doing out there," He paused, gesturing towards the surrounding forest, " she pulled in so much darkness that I could see her aura almost as soon as we entered the trees. It was like an atomic cloud, hovering over the trees, filled with rage and hate. Rose used the bond to pull it into herself, so Lissa wouldn't become a raving lunatic."

"My God." Alberta looked nauseated. "Poor Rose."

He drew deeply on his cigarette, almost feeling the mind numbing effect of the nicotine rush through his system. "Poor Rose is right. With that amount of darkness, she might never be sane again. Where is she?"

"I have no idea. I told Belikov to calm her down and he drug her into the forest. For all I know, they could be on their way back to the school."

"Not likely. You just gave him a free license to—"

"Not now." She narrowed her eyes, her voice sounding low and threatening. "None of your innuendos, Adrian. Is this what you had a bad feeling about? Rose and the Princess?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't think so. No. What's coming is something much worse than this."

Alberta barked out a harsh laugh. "Worse than this? Rose nearly beat a royal Moroi to death. It doesn't get much worse than that, Ivashkov."

He stared at her, dropping his cigarette and grinding it out in the dirt. "I remember two things, Allie. They came to me while I was running. Rose's horrified screams and dead bodies. In my opinion, that's a hell of a lot more serious than some privileged brat getting his ass kicked."

He walked off, intending to head deeper into the trees. He'd find Rose, and hopefully there would be some way to siphon off some of the madness. He could handle it—he had to, truth be told. Because he was nowhere near as dangerous as Rose. She'd trained since a very young age to become a killer. Add madness to her wicked skills, and you had the recipe for a disaster of biblical proportions. Best case scenario, the powers-that-be would lock her in a cell and throw away the key. Worst case, they'd put her down, the same way they'd treat a rabid animal.

He'd be damned if he'd let either one of those things happen. Not on his watch. No siree.


	47. A Forceful Woman

A firm hand grabbed his arm, halting him in his tracks.

"You're coming with us."

He glared at the hand, eyes flicking to the woman who was wasting precious time. "No I'm not. I'm gonna—"

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you have a choice in the matter, Lord Ivashkov." Alberta began pulling him in the direction the others had taken—a direction that was the exact opposite of the one he needed. He winced—her grip was bordering on painful.

"I have to find Rose!" He dug in his heels, attempting to stop their progress. He hadn't been prepared for Alberta's strength, or for her sheer determination. "I can help her!"

She stopped, her face furious as she thrust her face closer, stopping with only a breath of air between them. ""No! If anyone can save her—can bring her back from… that, it's Dimitri. You're not going to ruin the only chance we have of…." Struggling to calm herself, she bit down on her lip, trying to slow her breathing. "You're coming with me. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice"

He smirked at her, not believing her underlying threat in the slightest. "What are you gonna do Allie, throw me over your shoulder and carry me? I must say, I love when a woman gets forceful with me."

"Don't test me, Ivashkov. I'll do it."

Studying her face, Adrian realized she was serious. Her expression reminded him of a mother bear, determined to save her cub. There was no way he could get past her, even his compulsion was useless against her. Fuck a duck. Maybe he could find Rose through Belikov. After all, he'd tracked the Russian before, and it had been almost too easy.

"Well what the hell are we waiting for? Lead on Macduff."

She glared at him for a minute more, waiting perhaps, for him to try something, then once again began dragging him towards the academy. He allowed her to lead him, closing his eyes and focusing on the darkness inside his head. Concentrating on Belikov, he found the man within minutes. He instantly regretted it. Immensely.

Once again, he felt like a ghost, some spirit taking over the other man's body. He was in Belikov's head, seeing through his eyes—and what he saw was more disturbing than anything seen before. They were in some sort of… cabin, a fire blazing in the large fireplace beside them. It's flames cast flickering dancing light on the girl in front of him, making her seem like some sort of mythological deva, a creature created of flame and smoke. She was beautiful, in the soft light, but her eyes—they were tormented, filled with malice so dark and deadly it made Adrian shiver. He felt Belikov's thoughts as they filled his mind but he threw up a wall, diverting them. He didn't care about the Russian's thoughts, he only wanted to observe Rose—to determine if she needed his aide.

"Rose, I know you're upset, but you know we don't punish people like that. It's … savage."

"Yeah? What's wrong with that? I'd bet it'd stop them from doing it again." Rose's voice was low and dangerous, her body trembling. "They need to suffer for what they did! And I want to be the one to do it! I want to hurt them all. I want to kill them all."

She started to get up, but Belikov's hands were on her shoulders in a flash, shoving her back down. She fought against him, and his grip tightened.

"Rose! Snap out of this!" He was yelling now too. "You don't mean any of it. You've been stressed and under a lot of pressure—it's making a terrible event that much worse."

"Stop it!" She shouted back at him. "You're doing it—just like you always do. You're always so reasonable, no matter how awful things are. What happened to you wanting to kill Victor in prison, huh? Why was that okay, but not this?"

"Because that was an exaggeration. You know it was. But this…this is something different. There's something wrong with you right now."

"No, there's something right with me." Her expression changed, from fury to something even more frightening. It was… cunning. She was planning something. But what? "I'm the only one who wants to do anything around here, and if that's wrong, I'm sorry. You keep wanting me to be some impossible, good person, but I'm not! I'm not a saint like you."

"Neither of us is a saint," Dimitri said dryly. "Believe me, I don't—"

She made her move, leaping out and shoving him away. Thank God the Russian was so fast—she didn't get two steps away before he seized her again. Forcefully pinning her down, he used the full weight of his massive body to keep her from moving.

"Let me go!" She yelled, thrashing against him.

"No," Belikov said, voice hard and yet sounding almost... desperate. "Not until you break out of this. This isn't you!"

Tears filled Rose's eyes, making Adrian's heart hurt deep inside his chest. His poor, poor Rosebud. "It is! Let me go!"

"It's not. It isn't you! It isn't you." There was agony in his voice.

"You're wrong! It is—"

Her words suddenly dropped off, her face freezing as her eyes widened in shock and… horror. She stared up into Belikov's eyes, her expression shifting to one of fear. A second later the rage was back, battling the fear for dominance. He watched as she fought an internal war with the darkness. A war she appeared to be on the verge of losing as she began to fight against him again.

"Rose," said Dimitri. It was only her name, but he had somehow... filled it with... love and worry. His emotions gave his voice power, and it reached out, thrusting into her, strengthening her resolve. Adrian could almost see Rose rebuilding herself, determined to win against the madness simply because of the way the Russian had called out to her.

She stopped fighting him. Her body trembled, the fear winning out over the fury. Dimitri seemed to immediately recognize the change, releasing his hold.

"Oh my God," she said, voice shaking.

His hand touched the side of her face, fingers stroking down her cheek. "Rose," he breathed. "Are you okay?"

"I… I think so. For now."

"It's over," he said. He was still touching her, this time brushing the hair from her face. "It's over. Everything's all right."

She shook my head. "No. It's not. You…you don't understand. It's true—everything I was worried about. About Anna? About me taking away spirit's craziness? It's happening, Dimitri. Lissa lost it out there with Jesse. She was out of control, but I stopped her because I sucked away her anger and put it into myself. And it's—it's horrible. It's like I'm, I don't know, a puppet. I can't control myself."

"You're strong," he said. "It won't happen again."

"No," she said, her voice filled with terror as she struggled to sit up. "It will happen again. I'm going to be like Anna. I'm going to get worse and worse. This time it was blood lust and hate. I wanted to destroy them. I needed to destroy them. Next time? I don't know. Maybe it'll just be craziness, like Ms. Karp. Maybe I'm already crazy, and that's why I'm seeing Mason. Maybe it'll be depression like Lissa used to get. I'll keep falling and falling into that pit, and then I'll be like Anna and kill—"

"No," Dimitri interrupted gently. He moved his face toward hers, their foreheads nearly touching. "It won't happen to you. You're too strong. You'll fight it, just like you did this time."

"I only did because you were here." She whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his chest, whispering against his shirt. "I can't do it by myself."

"You can," he said. There was a tremulous note in his voice. "You're strong—you're so, so strong. It's why I love you."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "You shouldn't. I'm going to become something terrible. I might already be something terrible."

Dimitri pulled back, looking her in the eyes as he cupped her face in his hands. "You aren't. You won't," he said. "I won't let you. No matter what, I won't let you."

No. No no no no no no no. He saw where this was going, and he had to fucking stop it. Adrian tried to pull out of the vision, to return his consciousness to his own body. He felt a sharp, snap inside his head, followed by a burning rush of pain. Wincing, he tried again, only to be met with the same immediate results.

Horrified, he realized that, for the moment, he was trapped in Dimitri Belikov's head, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.


	48. Her Knight in Shining Armor

This was worse than any nightmare he could imagine. He sent out a probe, testing Belikov's thoughts. Grimacing, he forced himself to concentrate on breaking free. He couldn't bear this—couldn't watch it, goddamn it!

Only Adrian Ivashkov could be this unlucky. He only prayed that Belikov was a controlled as everyone claimed. Being trapped in his Russian rival's head and forced to witness the asshole being intimate with the woman they both loved would drive him off the deep end.

Unfortunately, Belikov's conscience seemed to be at its breaking point—his morals were on the verge of deserting him. The other man was, at the moment, wrestling with his high-minded virtue, attempting to conquer his rising desire to claim Rose. He wanted to join them together, body and soul, making them one in a completely physical way. The look on Rose's face as she stared up at him wasn't helping the situation.

Her brown eyes were filled with heat as her tongue snaked out, sliding across her lips, making them glisten in the dim firelight. She slid her arms up, wrapping them around Dimitri's neck, and their lips met. Steadily, the intensity of their kissing increased, moving from something sweet to something hungry and powerful.

Rose clung to him, one arm around his neck while the other hand gripped his back so hard that her nails dug in, indenting the skin, leaving tiny half-moon imprints when she moved them. Belikov laid her back down on the bed, his hands wrapping around her waist. A moment later one large hand slid down the back of her thigh, pulling it up so that it nearly wrapped around him.

Adrian was in agony. This was sheer, unmitigated torture. What the fuck had he ever done to deserve this? All he wanted to do was be with her. To help her. He wanted to rip his brain out and tear it to shreds for trapping him in this hell.

Belikov and Rose broke apart, the Russian's words filling him with a brief flare of hope.

"We can't…" he told her.

"I know," she agreed.

Then his mouth was on hers again, their bodies wrapping together as he tried to pull her coat off, then his shirt, then her shirt. …

He forced his thoughts to anything other than what was going on in that fire lit room. He threw up a wall surrounding himself, trying to block out all vision. He pulled on spirit, wanting to black out, anything to get him away from this. Because Belikov's emotions were riding him so strongly that he could feel every caress—he could taste every kiss. He heard Rose's soft cry and felt every nuance as Belikov broke through the remaining barrier, taking her as his own, stealing her from Adrian in one powerful thrust of his hips. He realized a moment later, exactly how great his loss was. Rose, for all her bawdy talk and flirtatious ways, had been pure, untouched by any man. Until now.

That knowledge filled him with rage, and the rage was what did it. He broke free of the binds that had trapped him, ripping himself out of the space inside his head, slamming back into his body. He was surprised to find himself on his knees in the forest, sobbing, being rocked in a warm, motherly embrace.

"Shhhh. It's all right Adrian. I'm here. You're fine."

"Rose… she…" His voice broke, full of tears.

Alberta held him at arms length, her face full of worry. "What about Rose? Is she…" She stopped, seeming to struggle, searching to find the right words. "Is she still… not right?"

Adrian laughed, and it sounded maniacal. "Oh, Rose is fine. Abso-fucking-lutely fantastic. You could say she's positively euphoric. Rapturous, even." He wiped at his cheeks, unable to look at her. "You sure were right about Belikov. He knew exactly what to do to help her. He has techniques I never would have thought of. I've heard of fucking someone senseless, but never—"

"WHAT?"

"You heard me." He fell back, staring up into the treetops. "Guardian Belikov just took Rose's virginity, and in the process he saved her mind."

"She's only seventeen!" Alberta whispered, horrified.

"She's legal in the state of Montana, Allie."

"Maybe you're wrong. You said your visions are wrong sometimes." She was grasping at straws, not wanting to face the truth. Adrian felt bad for telling her in such a harsh manner. She'd honestly thought Belikov would wait until Rose was an adult. Funny, he'd thought the same thing.

"It wasn't a vision. I was in his head, while it was happening. I couldn't get out." He shuddered . "I felt… It was horrible."

Her eyes widened as she processed his words, comprehending what he meant. The look on her face told him she understood and sensed the things he'd left unsaid. "Oh Adrian. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine—"

"No you can't. He took something precious—something that can never be replaced." Standing, he offered her a hand up. "Come on. I don't want to be here when they make an appearance. If I have to watch them glowing at each other, I'll puke."

They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. He was trying his damnedest not to think about how Rose had looked… How she'd sounded as Belikov penetrated her. Trying to ignore the way she'd clung to the other man, thrusting herself against him as she…

"If Janine finds out, she'll tear him apart." Alberta mumbled.

"Yeah? Well she's gonna have to get in line." He pulled out a cigarette, wishing he had something a hell of a lot stronger. Like morphine—maybe that could take away the pain of having his heart ripped in two.

Deep inside, he knew that it wouldn't help a bit. Nothing could take away the anguish of his broken heart. Nothing at all.

* * *

Lissa had been taken to the clinic. Christian was pacing outside, an anxious expression on his face. When he saw Adrian approaching, his face darkened.

"You used compulsion on me again you son of a—"

"Not now, Lord Ozera!" Alberta stepped between them, her normally expressionless face angry. Once again, she appeared to be in mother bear mode, only this time, Adrian was the cub she was protecting. "Settle your differences later. Lord Ivashkov has had… a bad experience."

Christian's eyes widened, shocked by the woman's loss of control. He stared between the two of them, his expression slipping to one of worry. "What happened? Where's Rose?"

"We're not sure what happened. I need to speak with the princess. The sooner I do that, the sooner we'll have answers." She looked over at Adrian, her eyes filled with concern. "Will you be all right?"

He nodded, reaching out and squeezing her hand. "Yeah. Thanks Allie. You're a good friend."

Giving him a sad smile, she pulled away, brushing past Christian on her way to the door. The boy reached out, stopping her.

"They won't let me see her. Will you... Will you give this to her?" Holding out a small slip of folded paper, he seemed to hold his breath, waiting for her to take it.

"Certainly, Lord Ozera. You should both return to your rooms. As soon as I know something, I'll notify you."

Adrian watched her enter the clinic, admiring the way she straightened, becoming a model guardian. There was no sign of the woman who'd comforted him in the forest, and he was glad of that fact. Right now, she needed to be strong. In spite of what happened between Rose and Belikov, they both had bigger problems to deal with. The feeling of impending doom was still with him, taunting him. Something wicked was still lurking on the edges of his subconscious, and it would be making itself known soon. He just hoped that whatever it was, Belikov was still with Rose when it appeared, protecting her.

"What happened?"

He glanced at Ozera, wondering how much he should say. "Something happened to Lissa—before you ask, I don't know what. Whatever it was, she pulled on so much spirit I could see her aura from where we were, hovering over the trees. I think she was using… compulsion. Tons of it. She couldn't control the spirit, and it took her over."

Christian paled. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"The madness took her mind. Rose drained it away, through the bond, and it made her go insane." He lit another cigarette. "Mind you, this is all just a hypothesis. Until I talk more to Lissa, I can't say for sure. From the little she told me though, I think I'm right. Whatever Jesse Zeklos did to Lissa, it made Rose want to kill him. She almost did in fact."

"Where's Rose?" Ozera's voice had a frantic sound to it, one that Adrian had never thought the boy would use where Rose was concerned. He was worried about her.

"Belikov rode in like a knight in shining armor, riding on a white fucking horse to save the day." He stared up at the sky, lost in his mind as the images swarmed him. He heard the haunting, manic lilt in his voice, and felt a momentary twinge of worry. What would he say? What would he disclose? Did it even matter now? "He carried her away and drove the darkness out of her."

Christian stared at him, confusion furrowing his brow. "Spit it out Adrian. I don't want any fucking riddles. I thought you couldn't get rid of spirit induced madness—you always use that as an excuse for your drinking. Is Rose ok? How did he—"

"Rose is fine," he said, cutting him off. "As for how Belikov did it… well, that's easy. He used his dick."


	49. The Storm Rolls In

The dangerous look in Ozera's icy blue eyes warned Adrian he'd said something… inappropriate. Hells bells, he'd done it again.

"Take it back. Now!"

"I might, if I knew exactly what it was I'd said that was so offensive."

A large flame appeared in Christian's hand as he scowled. "You inferred Rose was fucking her mentor."

Uh oh.

"Sorry man. Spirit is getting to me today—I need a drink."

Thankfully, that seemed to mollify him. After one more piercing glare, he stalked off towards the Moroi dorms. Adrian waited until he was out of sight, then turned around, returning to the clinic. If the fact he was the only other spirit user on campus didn't get him through the door, he'd pull rank.

After all, he was Adrian Ivashkov—the queen's favorite great-nephew. The rules didn't apply to him, and everyone damn well knew it.

He knew how to work the system in his favor. Within minutes he was at Lissa's bedside, watching as she read Ozera's note, a small smile playing across her face.

* * *

"Good news?" He asked sarcastically. If Lissa was concerned about Rose's condition, she was doing a damn fine job of hiding it. He felt a slow, steady burn as he watched the blonde princess, wondering how anyone could be so self-centered.

"I can't believe they wouldn't let Christian in. They wouldn't even let Eddie in, and I'm his Moroi for field training. How did you manage to get past the front door?" She ignored his question, carefully refolding the note and tucking it away in her pocket.

A sound of disgust escaped him before he could contain it. Lissa raised a pale eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know Lissa. Could it be that someone's missing from this little get together?" He struggled to keep his tone civil. "The fact your upset over Ozera's banishment is quite touching, but shouldn't you be more concerned about someone else right now?"

She chewed on her lip, confusion evident on her pretty face. He ran his hands through his hair, mentally counting to one hundred. Screaming at her wouldn't help the situation. She seemed absolutely clueless as to what—or whom—he was referring to.

"Rose. I take you haven't noticed she isn't here kicking the door down to reach your side?"

"I thought they had taken her… She was out of control. I…" Her eyes widened, a blush racing across her pale cheeks. "Oh my God. I'm a horrible friend. How is she?"

"I wouldn't know. Belikov carted her off to calm her down."

"She just snapped. One minute she was fine and the next—"

Adrian leaned forward, his emerald eyes like lasers. "She didn't snap and you know it. Quit trying to kid yourself, cousin! You fucking lost control of spirit and went off the deep end. She saved your mind, risking her own in the goddamned process."

Lissa's eyes pooled with tears. "I… Adrian, I don't remem—"

He laughed, cutting her off. "What a conveniently selective memory you have, Vasilisa. Your best friend pulled the darkness from you, going insane in the process, and you don't remember anything other than the fact she flipped out."

"It's not like that! I remember Jesse and the others doing horrible things to me. I remember Rose talking to me, telling me…" She broke off, staring past him. "Telling me to give it to her. You're right."

Dr. Olendzki chose that moment to reappear, effectively ending their discussion. After a thorough re-check of Lissa's vitals, the doctor declared she was free to return to her dorm. Castille trailed after them in silence—he seemed to be a bit pissed that Adrian had been allowed entry into Lissa's room while he'd been ordered to remain outside in the corridor. Rolling his eyes at the sour expression on the young dhampir's face, Adrian let his mind wander, trying to determine the best way to resume their aborted conversation. Half way across the quad he decided to just dive right in—there was no point in tiptoeing around the issue.

"I know you probably have plans with lover boy, but if you could spare an hour or so, I need to look over your notes on spirit."

Lissa shot a him a quizzical glance. "Why don't you use your own?"

"Can't find them." He grinned at her, raising an eyebrow at the incredulous expression on her face. "Sorry, last time I was reviewing them I had a few drinks and… misplaced them."

"Fine, but I do have to meet Christian—he'll be worried about what happened."

Adrian bit his tongue, on the verge of making an ugly comment about her priorities. Hell, he was worried too—about Rose. "Thanks."

She caught the sarcasm. Damn, he thought he'd hidden it rather well. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Anything that covers dealing with spirits darkness. It would be nice if someone other than Belikov had the ability to help Rose out when she needed it."

Her eyes flicked over at him and she stopped in her tracks, staring at him. She stared at the air around him, her eyes widening as her lips twitched. She bit down on them, but couldn't hide a smile. He narrowed his eyes, irritated by her obvious amusement.

"Mind telling me what's so fucking funny about Rose losing her mind?"

His comment sobered her immediately. "Sorry—it's just… your _jealous_."

"No. I'm not."

"I can see it in your aura Adrian. You're jealous. For Gods sakes, Guardian Belikov is her _mentor._"

He struggled not to blurt out everything he knew about the relationship between Rose and her cradle robber, knowing his little dhampir would never forgive him if he let the truth slip. Unfortunately, something in his aura peaked Lissa's curiosity.

"What does the blue gray mean? It's so dark it's almost black." She tilted her head, an appraising expression on her face. "Rose… No, that makes it pink. Guardian Belikov…" Her flicked to his, narrowing. "It's hatred, isn't it? You hate him. Why?"

"I don't hate him, I just don't particularly care for the man, cousin."

"Lie."

He ran his hands through his hair, nervous. He was usually the one with the inside knowledge about what others were feeling—he didn't enjoy being on the flip side. Fuck. How was he going to avoid this? If she lucked out and stumbled upon the right question… That would blow Rose's little romance right out of the water. Not that Lissa would _mind _per say—but she'd probably be pissed beyond words that Rose had failed to confide in her. Smirking, he simply shook his head, refusing to answer as he pulled on spirit, attempting to cloak his aura from her sight.

It didn't work. Worse, she could sense what he'd been trying to do, and it peaked her curiosity even more.

"What are you trying to hide Adrian?" She crossed her arms, glaring daggers at him. "There's something going on, and I want to know what it is. Now."

"Nothing Liss. I just really think we should—"

Lissa interrupted him, smiling a deviously sweet smile. "Is it about Rose?"

He stared at the bridge of her nose, right between her eyes, concentrating on anything but the question she'd asked. "No."

"Lie." She smirked, her expression looking eerily similar to the one he usual wore. " Is it about Rose and Guardian Belikov?"

Fuck.

"Lissa, I told you—" he broke off, his eyes glazing over as he was pulled into the blackness inside his head. A familiarly accented voice was calling out, a phrase he'd heard in his dreams.

_"Tell them buria."_

_"Buria. Buria. Buria. Buria. Buria."_

The word kept echoing in his head like a broken record. He snapped back into consciousness staring into Lissa's concerned eyes. Grabbing her elbow, he rushed her towards her dorm, ignoring the sounds of protest she and Castille were making. He didn't understand why the Russian word made every hair on his body stand at attention—but he did know he'd heard Belikov say it in his visions, just as clearly as he'd heard the man's voice running through his mind a moment before. The bad thing that had been lingering in the air was about to hit, and Adrian wanted them inside, with four strong walls protecting them when the buria rolled in.


	50. Reproachful Memory

He threw open the door to the Moroi dorm, shoving Lissa in ahead of him

"Adrian! What in the he—"

He pushed open the door, shoving her into the lobby. "Sorry. I just had a… weird feeling."

She stared at him a moment, eyes narrowed, then flounced towards the stairway. Shooting a winning smile at the matron on duty, Adrian followed after her. That is, until Castille grabbed his arm, halting his progress.

"Don't do that again," he warned. "I don't care who your aunt is. I'm not gonna stand by and watch my charge get manhandled."

Cocking his eyebrow, he shrugged off the young dhampir's hand. "You don't have to get huffy about it man. It won't happen again. It was a... momentary lapse."

Eddie looked as though he might press the issue, but instead turned to follow Lissa to her room. Adrian rolled his eyes at the boys intensity. How did someone so young become so passionate about a job? At his age he should be worried about girls and parties, not following a Moroi around and acting like a guard dog. With a heavy sigh, he jogged up the stairs, eager to get his hands on Lissa's well documented notes. If there was something—anything—that could help him assist Rose in handling spirit's darkness, they needed to find it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he bit back a curse. Lissa had been waylaid outside her door.

She and Christian were embracing, but the dark haired Moroi pulled away as he spotted Adrian, an unhappy expression crossing his face. Eddie, slumped up against the wall beside them shot him a warning look as he approached. What the hell? Was everyone pissed off at him today?

"I thought you were going to your room?" Christian glared at him.

Smirking, Adrian shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought they might need me on hand, in case Lissa needed any healing." The lie rolled off his lips with ease. Thinking on the spot was something he'd learned early. It was a necessity if one was going to spend time at court.

"Sure you did." Turning to Lissa, Christian gave her a questioning glance. Judging by the blush that crept up her cheeks, the look had some intimate meaning that escaped Adrian completely.

"You go on ahead. We need to look something up. I'll be there as soon as I can," she said.

"What's so important it can't wait?"

"Rose… she took the darkness of spirit from me and it…" closing her eyes she shook her head. "We need to see if we can find anything about countering it."

Christian shot a questioning glance towards Adrian. "I thought she was with Belikov? He'll look after her."

Lissa leaned forward, kissing his cheek. "Twenty minutes, okay?"

"Fine." With a dramatic sigh, Christian brushed passed Adrian. "Don't keep me waiting too long."

* * *

The notes were useless. They had found nothing mentioned about counteracting the darkness. Not even a hint that it was possible. Lissa pushed the papers away, frowning as she glanced at her watch.

"Christian's going to kill me. I'm sorry Adrian, but I have to go."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. He'd been so sure that he'd seen something mentioning a way to alleviate spirit's side effects. "Maybe in the library there's—"

A frantic pounding on the door interrupted him. Eddie shot to the door, opening it only enough to peek through. The matron's frantic voice carried through the room, her words causing a chill to race down Adrian's spine.

"Get upstairs! All of you!" The dorm matron pointed down the hall. "We're under attack! Everyone has to go to the upper level."

Eddie was in action immediately, hovering at Lissa's side as he tugged her out the door.

Adrian stared at the matron as she left the doorway, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding at an alarming rate. This was it—what his vision had been about. What his mind had been hiding in its depths for days. Rose… Oh God, she was out there in the midst of it. He shot out the door, racing after her as she moved on to the room next door, repeating her frenzied warning.

"What do you know?" He asked the older woman as she moved to the next door.

"Please Lord Ivashkov, join the Princess and Novice Casteel up—"

He latched onto her arm, lacing his words with spirit. "Tell me what you know."

"Rose Hathaway alerted the guardians there were Strigoi on campus. She said Guardian Belikov was attempting to hold them off while she ran for backup. He told her to tell the others 'buria'. That's the… code word."

Buria. Storm. He could have prevented this. He released the woman, both physically and mentally, slowly heading down the hall towards the stairs. Belikov had stayed behind—alone—giving Rose a chance to escape. Adrian's eyes closed as he leaned against the wall. He sent his mind out, searching for the familiar aura, hoping he'd find it. Praying his stupidity hadn't—

There.

He was fighting. For just a moment, Adrian saw what the other man was seeing as he attempted to fend off three ancient looking Strigoi. While he watched one fell, Belikov riding its body to the ground as he twisted his silver stake into the chest. Graceful as a cat the man pivoted, springing to his feet to take on his next opponent.

Pulling his conscious back, he jogged up the remaining stairs. Belikov was holding his own. Knowing Rose, she was probably doing everything in her power to return to her lovers side. He refused to worry about them. Together, they would be unstoppable. He immediately reached the decision that his main concern right now should be reassuring Lissa. She had to believe that everything would be fine. The last thing Rose needed was for Lissa to become distraught and pull in too much darkness. If that happened, Rose might lose her ability to function in the middle of the fight. If she got pulled into Lissa's head while trying to kill a Strigoi—he shuddered at the thought. She had to stay focused, concentrating on the battle, and he'd do his damndest to keep her bond mate calm. The argument with Belikov in the clinic played through his head, reproaching him with each stair he ascended.

_"You were positive it was a prophecy, Adrian." _

_"What if you're wrong? Are you willing to risk that? Try and remember, please. Tell me what you dreamed, just in case."_

_"Fine. If anything does happen—if Rose gets hurt—it's on your head Ivashkov. I hope you can live with that."_

Biting his lip, he fought to contain the scream of denial he felt building with him. A scream that felt as if it were forming from the depths of his soul. People would die tonight, Moroi and Dhampir, and he knew that their blood—the blood of innocents—would be on his hands.

"Adrian!"

He spotted her—Castille had placed her in a corner and was positioned in front of her like a living shield. He pushed his way through the mass of bodies, wincing at the onslaught of emotions he was picking up from the auras he left in his wake. Lissa's aura was blazing brighter than the others, full of fear and terror. He knew who she was worried about, and tried to calm her as soon as he was close enough to speak without having to shout over the cacophony of voices in the lounge.

"Rose is fine," he said, struggling to make his voice as soothing as possible. He could see a tinge of darkness spreading through her aura. "She can take on any Strigoi. Besides, Christian told you she was with Belikov. She's probably safer than we are."

Lissa nodded, chewing at her lower lip. "But Christian…"

Fuck. He'd forgotten about her boyfriend. By now, the kid had probably been used as a Strigoi juice box. He glanced at Eddie, hoping the dhampir would help him out.

"If he's in the chapel, he's fine. He really is the safest of all of us." Castille offered.

"Unless they burn it down," said Lissa. "They used to do that."

"Four hundred years ago. I think they've got easier pickings around here without needing to go all medieval." He ran his hands through his hair. God, he needed a drink.

Lissa winced, closing her eyes. After a moment or two, she grabbed his hand. "If something happens to him… I love him so much—I couldn't bear it."

Pulling her into his arms, he dropped a kiss on the top of her blonde head. "I know exactly how you feel, cousin. Believe me."

As he tried his best to ease her mind, he found himself hoping that somehow, for the duration of this night, the madness would claim him. Anything would be better than hearing the echo of Dimitri Belikov's accusations rolling around in his head.


	51. The Smell of Silence

The lounge was almost overflowing with bodies. The combined Moroi and dhampires were pressed shoulder to shoulder, and still more kept trying to force their way in the overcrowded room. Realizing their instances were in vain, the unfortunate students began rushing to the lounges located on the lower levels. They were like a herd of gazelles fleeing from a pride of lions, each one trying to hide in the midst of the crowd, praying they would remain invisible to the predators that lurked nearby.

It was stuffy, the air filled with a plethora of mingling scents. The boy's cologne warred with the overbearing odor of the girl's perfume—someone had obviously taken a fucking bath in Chanel No. 5. Overpowering all of the chemically manufactured scents was the aroma of panic and dread, slowly leaking out of everyone's pores. The sharp smell of so many sweaty, overheated bodies was nauseating, to say the least.

He had no idea how much time had passed, it felt like hours. The waiting in and of itself was pure, unmitigated hell. He could feel the aura of every individual in the room pressing down on him, the fear and anxiety contained in each flashing like strobe lights, filling the room with their flickering yellowish orange glow. It was affecting him in ways he'd never before considered, the emotions slamming into him like heat seeking missiles. It had triggered something inside him, breaking down his carefully constructed walls and allowing spirit to flow into his body, filling him to the point his skin tingled with it.

Never before had the element come unbidden. He'd tried to stop it—to dam the river that rushed through him, but it had been futile. All he could do was hang on, hoping he survived the ride with all his brain cells intact. Unbeknownst to him, he'd begun rocking from one foot to the other, the pace becoming faster and faster, while his head twitched to the side in time with each shift of his body. His mind was drifting, his eyes not focused on the room around him, but inside himself. He'd been sucked into Belikov's mind again, watching as the man worked his way across the campus, killing every enemy that crossed his path. He could feel the Russian's panic as if it were his own—he heard the thoughts as they raced through the other man's mind as he searched, determined to find and protect his Roza. His love. The other half of his soul. He must find her. God, please let her have made it to safety. Let her be—

A large, warm hand pulled him back into the lounge, stilling his frenzied movements.

"You okay?" Eddie whispered. His eyes were filled with worry, making Adrian wonder if he'd been babbling aloud.

"Was I talking?" He asked, raking his fingers though his hair, ignoring the protests of the Moroi he'd elbowed when raising his arm.

"You kept saying 'Roza'." Lissa said. "Over and over. 'I must protect Roza'. Who's… What did you see?"

"Nothing. I don't know." He worried his lower lip with his fangs, squeezing his eyes closed. It blocked out the flashing, but the pressure… the goddamned weight of their auras… it was killing him. "I need a drink."

Lissa stared at him, her expression incredulous. "Are you kidding me? Rose and Christian are out there somewhere—where people are _dying_— and you want a drink?"

"I'm trapped in a room with fifty terrified students, Vasilisa, surrounded by a veritable laser light show of emotions. Excuse me for wanting to dull the effects."

Even to his own ears, he sounded cold and distant. The tone was somehow strangely familiar, reminding him of something he'd heard in a vision. It was soulless and unfeeling, giving him chills. As Lissa looked away, unable to meet his eye, he tried to contemplate the voice. Who had it been? What the fuck had he seen in those godforsaken dreams?

Sighing, he pulled out a cigarette, glaring around him defiantly as he lit it. A few of the nearby Moroi began to sputter in protest—he silenced them as soon as they voiced their objections with a sullen 'fuck off'. One voice continued on, and he recognized it instantly. It filled him with anger, making him wish he had room to throttle its owner.

"Some of us don't want to inhale your second hand smoke, Ivashkov." Ralf Sarcozy called out.

"Some of us don't want to deal with your face, Sarcozy," Eddie shot back. "but we don't have a choice in the matter."

Ralf opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of glass shattering in the distance immediately silenced him.

"Oh God!" The red haired Moroi next to Adrian grabbed onto his arm, almost burning herself on his cigarette in the process. "What was that?"

He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to hold in his initial response. What the fuck did the little idiot think it was, Santa Claus? Lissa grabbed his other hand, squeezing so tightly he couldn't feel his fingers. He was about to tell he to ease up when screams from the lower levels filled the air.

The screams confirmed what the shattering glass had hinted at.

Strigoi had reached the dorms.

Seconds later, Castile attempted to plow his way through the mass of bodies, ignoring Lissa's tear filled protests. Adrian hung on his arm, trying his damndest to hold the novice back. Other dhampires in the room seemed to have had the same idea as Eddie, each one rushing for the door, pushing everyone aside in their hurry.

"Eddie! You're supposed to stay with me!" Lisa shouted. "You can't do this!"

Castile spun, his face set in an intense look that said his choice was made. The determination on his face aged him, while at the same time giving him the look of a seasoned warrior. "I have to do this Lissa. We can save them. Without us they don't stand a chance."

"No you can't! Eddie you're not thinking straight! If you go out there they'll kill you!" She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his broad chest. A pained look crossed his face as he gazed down at her. Detaching himself, he forced her to meet his eye.

"They come first Lissa. You come first. It's the first lesson dhampires are taught here—the first lesson we learn from our parents. I have to do this." Looking over her shoulder, his hazel eyes met emerald green ones, his unspoken request evident.

Stepping forward Adrian encircled the distraught blonde with his arms, holding her back. "Good luck man. Come back safe."

With a nod, Eddie broke for the door, his only weapon the practice stake he'd been using for field training. Adrian rocked Lissa gently, sending up a silent prayer for the brave young dhampires that were rushing into danger. He had a feeling they'd need it.

* * *

After that, things moved rapidly. One minute the motley group was listening to the sound of fighting, with a few blood curdling screams peppering the air. The lights went out, and then the noises slowly faded away, leaving them with a silence that was infinitely more frightening. They heard no crying or scuffling feet—there nothing to indicate what was happening beyond the closed door. The building had fallen as quiet as a tomb.

The quiet brought to mind unwanted memories of childhood. Half remembered images of huddling under the covers in the stillness of one's bedroom, terrified of what might be lurking nearby. The silence itself had been the problem, it was filled with unknown possibilities. The only sounds heard being the frantic beating of the heart echoing in your ears, or the shallow, rushed inhale and exhale of breath as you tried to stay quite. For a moment, he reflected on the surrounding room. Taking in the sight of everyone huddling together and smelling their terror, he knew that from this day forward, he would always equate the smell of fear with the gut wrenching horror of absolute silence.

As suddenly as it had descended, the quiet was gone, replaced with the sound of a multitude of footfalls. Adrian pushed Lissa behind him as he backed them towards the corner. He might not be a fighter, but he'd do his best to protect her. He'd shove as much spirit as possible into the first undead asshole that came through the door. It was still racing through him like a current, so much inside him that he could see a bright golden white halo from the corners of his peripheral vision—it was his own aura, blazing like a falling star.

The door swung open, causing the majority of the students in the room to scream out. He felt Lissa's hands clenching the back of his shirt, her thin body trembling as she pressed herself against him. He focused on the figure coming through the door from the darkness of the hallway and instantly sagged with relief.

It was Guardian Dick.

The cavalry had finally arrived.


	52. Hey Jealousy

The guardians refused to let anyone leave until after they had made a thorough accounting of who was in the room. From what Guardian Dick said, this was happening throughout the dorm, and all across campus. Anyone with the slightest modicum of intelligent being would realize that the faster the guardians questions were answered, the faster they could get out of this stifling, sinking room. Unfortunately, it seemed that Adrian was the only one with any smarts. Everyone else was chattering away, ignoring Dick's demands for answers. Even Lissa was whining, wanting to make sure Christian was unharmed.

"People! As soon as we determine who's missing, you'll be allowed to head for one of the designated safe zones. The commons, the church and the dorms are the only areas that will be open to students at this time. Now, let's try this again. Was this room breached? Anyone taken?" The guardian's voice was tense, his anger obviously near its breaking point. Adrian couldn't resist a peek at his aura, and as suspected, Orange was the dominant color. Dick was about to snap.

Pushing through the crowd, he towed Lissa behind him, not stopping until he was practically in the older man's face.

"No Strigoi got in, but when the screaming started, several novices ran out to defend the others. Eddie Castile was the only one I know by name." He nudged Lissa. "Did you recognize any of the others?"

She bit her lip. "Um… Dennis Ratcliff. Samuel Montgomery. I think the other one was Tony Robinson. Is Eddie alright?"

"Castile and Robinson aren't among the bodies." Guardian Dick didn't look up from his notepad as he jotted down the names. "They'll be listed among the missing."

Lissa's knees buckled, and only Adrian's firm grip on her arm kept her upright. "What about Rose? Is she… "

The corners of the man's mouth quirked upward, and for a moment, an expression of pride crossed his face. "Hathaway is fine, Princess. She and Lord Ozera killed more Strigoi than the rest of us combined."

"Christian? How… What happened?"

"They teamed up. He set them on fire and she staked them. If it weren't for the two of them, the Strigoi would have taken the elementary dormitories. They saved a lot of lives. If Belikov hadn't sent Hathaway to warn us, this would have been a bloodbath."

Adrian remained silent, lost in thought. Bits and pieces of visions were weaving together in his mind, images of his little dhampire and Ozera fighting side by side. Was that what the dreams had been foretelling, or was there something more? He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Castile's disappearance was the start of something. Something big. Something that would make the horrible attack they'd just experienced seem like child's play. As the guardians began directing the students towards the safe zones, he held Lissa back.

"Before we go… I need you to try and get in my head again, cousin."

"I want to find Christian," she said.

Adrian stared at her. "Lissa, this is important. What if something worse is coming? What if it involves Rose? We have to—"

"The only thing I _have _to do Adrian is to see my boyfriend." She pushed past him, refusing to meet his eyes. "Rose can take care of herself, obviously. You heard what Guardian Alto said."

He watched her walk away, stunned by the harshness of her tone when she spoke about her bond mate. She was angry at Rose, and he hadn't the slightest idea why.

* * *

Ozera had been raving about Rose's performance during the battle for the last thirty minutes. He was either a moron or very unobservant. He appeared to be completely oblivious to the fact that ever word he uttered was fuel to the already burning fire within his girlfriend. Studying her aura, he realized that she was jealous of her best friend. Why, he couldn't say, but he was damned sure going to find out.

"What's your problem, Lissa?" He asked, cutting off Christian's play by play.

She tossed her hair, forcing a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap. You're pissed off. And extremely jealous."

Christian glanced at her, realizing for the first time that she was irritated. "Liss?"

"I don't understand how she does it. She practically killed Jesse earlier, but they've all forgotten about it. Just because she warned them about the attack—"

"She did a hell of a lot more than just warn them, Lissa. She almost died trying to protect me. A Strigoi was about to drain her, and her only concern was that I run away to safety." His blue eyes were piercing. "Are you jealous of _Rose_?"

She sighed. "She should have been with me. If she had been there, Eddie would still be here. She's supposed to be protecting me. If she hadn't been off with Guardian Belikov—"

"If she'd been with you, I'd be dead right now. And so would most of the kids on the lower campus." Christian crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. "There's more to it than that Lissa. What is it?"

Adrian leaned back, smirking. He knew the answer now. Her aura had flared lime green when she mentioned Belikov and Rose. She might not know what was going on, but her subconscious suspected. "She's afraid someone will come between her and Rose. Or should I say that someone _has already _come between them."

"That's not true!" Jade green eyes locked with emerald ones. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"Lie." He arched a brow, imitating the voice she'd used earlier when she quizzed him. "You forget, Vasilisa, I'm a walking lie detector too. And I'm a million times better at it than you are."

"Who could come between you?" Christian asked. "Rose loves you more than anything. She'd die for you. In the middle of battle, she wanted to come find you."

"But she didn't. She was probably more concerned about…" She caught herself, biting her lip and shaking her head.

Adrian laughed. "Oh cousin. It takes you awhile to figure things out, but eventually, you do. Now the question is, how are you going to handle it?"

"What the hell am I missing here?" Ozera frowned, glancing between them. Lissa studied the table, refusing to meet his eye.

When the blue eyes were on him again, Adrian mouthed a single name. Rather than being surprised, Christian nodded. Interesting. Perhaps the boy had witnessed something during the wondered if Belikov realized how observant the boy could be. He caught sight of someone entering the cafeteria, abruptly changing the subject.

"There's Rose. Let's all play nice, shall we?"

They watched her selecting her food in silence. She looked exhausted, her beautiful face was almost haggard. She attempted a smile as she approached them, but it failed miserably.

"You get to tell her about Eddie." Christian hissed.

"Why me?"

"You were there. Lissa's in no shape to discuss it." He slid his arm around his girlfriend, pulling her into his side. "Be nice Lissa. I mean it. She's been through a lot today."

"So have I." She shot back in a low undertone.

Rose reached them, setting down her tray and collapsing into her seat. "Hey guys. Where's Eddie?"

Adrian bit his lip. "He's missing."

"What?" She stared at him, as if it were a joke and she was waiting for the punch line. "He was with you guys," She glanced at Lissa, her eyes full of unspoken accusation. "I saw him with you. Through your eyes."

Lissa looked up, her face pale and full of grief. Whether it was over Eddie's disappearance or her newfound realization , Adrian couldn't guess. "When the Strigoi got in downstairs, he and some other novices went down to help."

"They didn't find his body," he offered, searching for the right words. "He was one of the ones they took."

Christian sighed and leaned back in his chair. "He's as good as dead, then."

Rose stared at them, her expression one of intense dismay. She shot up from the chair and shoved her tray away. He gazed at her aura, worried as the darkness billowed around her. Oh shit. This was going to get ugly.

"What's wrong?" asked Lissa.

Rose stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head. "What's wrong? What's wrong? Do you seriously have to ask that?"

Her voice echoed around them, drawing the eye of every person in the room.

"Rose, you know what she means," he offered, his voice unusually calm. He filled the words with spirit, trying to catch her eye. He had to diffuse the situation. "We're all upset. Sit back down. It's going to be okay."

She glared at him, the darkness of spirit helping her to resist his compulsion. "It is not going to be okay—not unless we do something about this."

"There's nothing to be done," said Christian. He rubbed Lissa's back, trying to soothe her.

"We'll see about that," she said, turning towards the door.

"Rose, wait," Lissa called out.

Ignoring her, Rose stormed out of the commons and into the bright light outside. Adrian was on his feet in an instant, heading for the door. Through the smoked glass he watched as she bumped into her mother.

Oh hell. This had all the makings of a epic disaster.


	53. A Nightmare Come True

Hell must have frozen over, because the two Hathaway women appeared to be getting along. He watched them for a moment or two, just to be sure no blows were exchanged. When neither woman threw a punch, he tuned to rejoin his friends.

Christian was trying his hardest to calm Lissa—she appeared to be throwing a very undignified fit. Her face was flushed, her eyes narrowed and her voice was raised. Every eye in the cafeteria was zeroed in on the pair, enjoying the free show.

"Do NOT tell me to calm down Christian. She just walked away and left me here. She can tell how upset I am through the bond and she didn't even care! She just—"

"Spent hours killing, Vasilisa." Adrian leaned across the table, trying to keep his voice low. "Contrary to popular belief, Rose has feelings too. Maybe you should consider them once in awhile."

Lissa glared at him, her hands clenching into fists. "Of course you'd take her side. You're in love with her. Too bad she'd rather be with—"

"She just saw men and women she's trained with her entire life cut down and there wasn't anything she could do to help them." He cut her off, fighting the urge to slap her. "How would you feel, Princess, if they had been your friends out there? My God, do you hear yourself? Me, me, me. I, I, I. You really do belong at court with the rest of the narcissistic fools." He stood up, glaring down at her. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to the clinic to see if I can be of assistance. There are injured guardians that need healing."

Her voice followed after him, her tone mocking. "Too bad you can't heal much more than a withered plant, Ivashkov."

Gritting his teeth he bit back a retort as he stormed out the door.

* * *

He had no idea how much time had passed. He'd been doing his best to heal the wounded, but unfortunately Lissa was right—his healing skills lacked the power of her own. Using the hem of his shirt he wiped a trickle of sweat that was trailing down his temple. He'd have to take a break soon and visit the feeders. Maybe he could ask Dr. Olendzki if a few feeders could be kept on hand in the hallway. That would save time. There were so many guardians in need of aide—and many of them were injured beyond his limited abilities.

"Adrian? I'm sorry. I was wrong."

He turned to face her, flicking his eyes to her aura. She wasn't really sorry. She thought she was right and everyone else was wrong. Ignoring the truth, he nodded. "Apology accepted, cousin. You here to lend a hand?"

Lissa smiled. "You need a break. I'll take over here. Go have a cigarette or something."

The instant he heard the word a urgent, overpowering need consumed him. "Thanks. I'll be back in a few."

He walked slowly towards the closest exit, leaning slightly against the wall as he proceeded down the sterile looking corridor. Healing took a lot out of him. Thank God he'd been sober at the time of the attack. There were small groups of people scattered outside, all talking quietly. He situated himself far enough away that his smoke wouldn't bother anyone and concentrated on the hushed voices.

As he listened, his stomach clenched. They were going to send out a rescue party. For some reason, the thought made him feel extremely anxious. He drew deeply on his cigarette, trying to still his shaking hands. It was a good thing, for them to strike back at the Strigoi. They might have a chance of rescuing the students and teachers that had been captured. So why did his stomach feel as if it had been filled with battery acid?

A movement near the tree line drew his attention, and he sighed. It was Rose and Belikov, slowly walking side by side, arms brushing as they leaned towards each other. He felt the sharp burn of jealousy course through him, but concentrated on pushing it back. Now wasn't the time for pettiness. He'd just lectured Lissa on being considerate to others, it was time to practice what he's been spouting off. Rose needed comfort, and as usual, Belikov was the only one who seemed to bring her the slightest measure of peace. Sighing, he flicked his still smoldering cigarette to the pavement, carefully extinguishing it underfoot. Rose didn't need him right now, but plenty of other dhampires did.

Rejoining Lissa, they worked out a routine. He would heal the smaller injuries then move on to the next patient. She followed in his wake, finishing up the task. He kept a careful eye on her aura, making sure the blackness didn't overwhelm her. The last thing they needed was for Rose to go on a homicidal rampage when half of the guardians were injured.

When Christian came in, bitching and moaning about being left behind, he attempted to ignore him. Unfortunately, his protests were so loud that every other word broke through Adrian's concentration.

"They let Rose go. She and I are a team. This is bullshit."

Adrian spun, healing instantly forgotten. "What the fuck do you mean _they let Rose go?_ "

"Just what I said. Rose and the other senior novices got to go on the raid. But they refused to let me go because I'm a damned Moroi. Never mind the fact I killed dozens of Strigoi today."

The rest of Ozera's words were lost in the whirlwind of blackness that swept over Adrian, dropping him to his knees. He heard Lissa calling him, then screaming for the doctor, but he was unable to respond. Rose had gone on the mission. That was bad. Something was going to happen to them. Something was—

The visions poured over him like scalding water, bowing his back as he thrashed on the floor. Every horrible image replayed in fast forward through his head. Every scream. Every whimper. He felt them all, flooding him, searing his brain as the dreams he'd forgotten took center stage. Over and over on a loop he heard her agonizing, heartbreaking cries. He relived Belikov's death a hundred times and felt his reawakening. He screamed out, trying to stop events that had not happened, but would in the span of just a few hours. Then there was nothing but silence and darkness as his mind collapsed under the burden of foresight.

He regain consciousness gradually. First he was aware of an irritating, constant beeping. Then the cool rush of oxygen from the tube that was inserted into his nostrils. Struggling to open his eyes, the world slowly swam into focus. What. The. Fuck?

He was staring up at a stained off with ceiling tile. The abstract darkness of a long ago roof leak resembled some kind of flower. A gladiola, or perhaps a tiger lily. Concentrating on it, he waited for his vision to focus before attempting to sit up. As soon as he tried, firm hands pushed him back down.

"Hold up Ivashkov. The doctor will be here in a minute." Christian smirked at him. "I can't believe you passed out man."

"What happened?" It came out a whisper. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, craving a sip of water. Better yet, vodka.

"You started screaming. You scared the hell out of Lissa."

"Could you understand anything I said?"

"Something about someone still being alive, not to leave him." Christian grabbed a glass from the bedside table, holding the straw up to his lips. "What the hell did you take?"

Adrian took a drink of water, wincing as the liquid ran down his aching throat. "Thanks. I didn't take anything. It was spirit induced."

Christian nodded. "I'm going to see what's keeping the doctor—"

"You gave us all quite a scare Lord Ivashkov." Dr. Olendzki entered the room at precisely that moment, trying to sound cheerful. It didn't work—her aura screamed out that she was horribly fatigued. "I need you to rest for a while longer."

"How long was I out?" His voice was hoarse and raspy sounding, and it was actually painful to talk.

"A little over an hour." She produced a small penlight, shining it in his eyes. "You hit your head rather hard. I wish someone had told me you were prone to seizures. I wouldn't have let you—"

"Fuck!" He shoved her hands away, ripping the oxygen tube from his face. "I need a guardian with a radio. Now."

She stared at him. "I'm afraid not. You need to—"

"Look, sweetheart. Don't make me pull fucking rank here. This is a matter of life and death. The rescue party is in danger." Grabbing a handful of wires, he ripped the electrodes from his chest.

Dr. Olendzki hadn't moved. Sighing in frustration he pushed past her, sliding off the table. "Fine. I'll just have to find one on my own."

"Lord Ivashkov, you shouldn't be—"

"Consider me discharged." He buttoned his shirt as he stormed down the corridor, his eyes flicking around the bodies that lined the hall. Not a single radio in sight. For fucks sake.

He could hear the doctor calling out his name, but chose to ignore her. For the first time since he'd had the fucked up dream, he could remember every single detail. He had to warn them, before he forgot it. Slamming through the doors, he ran face first into a solid wall of flesh. Looking at the man, he recognized him. Christian always went out of his way to avoid the man—he'd mentioned something about his sociopathic aunt having dated him for a brief while. What the hell was his name… Duroke? Dupont? No… Durov. Grigori Durov.

"Guardian Durov, are you able to contact the rescue team?"

The muscular man nodded. "In an emergency, yes. Why?"

"I need you to get Alberta Petrov or Dimitri Belikov on the radio." Good god, the man was mentally slow. He began to pull on spirit, knowing he'd need it on hand.

"They're all on the same frequency, Lord Ivashkov. It's not like a cell phone. But I can't just—"

Adrian's hand snaked out, grabbing the other man's chin as their eyes locked. "Get someone in the rescue party on the line, Durov. Now."

"Yes sir." Durov fumbled with the dial on his radio, mumbling in Russian. After a moment he pulled off the small earpiece and mike, handing them to Adrian.

"I need Petrov or Belikov."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Lord Adrian Ivashkov. I need—"

"We're in the middle of a fucking battle, Ivashkov. Petrov and Belikov are in combat."

"Fine. It is a matter of life or death that you relay this message. Tell Belikov he has to leave the cave with Rose. Right now. If he doesn't, he's going to—"

"Oh my God, you're the drunk. This isn't funny. I'll have you up on charges for this."

Adrian bit back a growl. "Who is this?"

"This is Guardian Celeste Vorobyov. Now get the fuck off this channel. We need it for emergencies."

"Guardian Vorobyov, I swear to you on the Queens life that I am not drunk. If Belikov doesn't get out of there right now, he's going to—"

"I don't have time for games, son. Strigoi are coming."

Static filled the earpiece.

"There's something wrong with it. All I hear is static." Adrian looked to Durov, holding out the small black receiver.

"She must have blocked my radio, Lord Ivashkov. Would you like me to find another one?"

"Yes. Hurry." He sank to the ground, leaning against the cold stone of the building. His skin felt as if there were thousands of ants marching across it. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, reaching for the black room within his head. Almost immediately he was pulled into Belikov's mind. They were running. He saw Rose just ahead, sunlight shining on her beautiful hair. Almost there. Just a few more yards. Adrian funneled spirit through himself, concentrating on the other man's aura, trying to give him an extra boost of energy. Almost as if he felt the power surging through him, Dimitri jerked, his concentration on the dangerous surroundings broken by the sudden, unexpected jolt of spirit. An instant later, two cold hands locked on his shoulders as a Strigoi grabbed Dimitri and pulled him to the ground. Fangs sank into the Russian's neck and Rose's screams began—just like in his vision. The nightmare had finally come true, and he'd been powerless to stop it.


	54. The Truth Hurts

He pulled himself out of Belikov's mind just as the man began his heartbreaking liturgy to his Roza. God, why? Why had his mind blocked him from remembering the vision for so long? Had he subconsciously wanted this to happen? Was he so insane that he would condemn a good man to death just because they loved the same woman? Silent tears rolled down his cheeks ad he considered it. For all intents and purposes, his actions had resulted in the death of his rival. What kind of a man did that make him?

Struggling to his feet, he sprinted for the chapel, feeling the overwhelming need for absolution. He had done this. It all rested on his shoulders. If only he had listened to Belikov that day in the clinic. If he had stayed sober and kept trying to _remember_, all this could have been averted, and no one would have died.

He burst through the doors of the chapel, his eyes darting around the interior searching for the priest. The man was sitting in the front row, a young Moroi teacher sobbing on his shoulder. He approached them slowly, stopping to lean against the wall a few feet away, granting the woman whatever privacy she might need.

The staff and students were understandably distraught. Strigoi attacking the school was something no one had ever expected to happen. The Academies were supposed to be safe havens—it was why the school years were so long and why Moroi families endured being separated for most of the year. Everyone considered it to be worth it for children to have a safe place to go. Now that that was no longer true… It shattered everyone's belief system.

Father Andrew noticed him standing in the shadows, excusing himself from the parishioner and joining Adrian against the wall.

The older Moroi studied Adrian, taking in the shaking hands and pale, tear stained face. "You look like you've seen a ghost, son. Let me help you."

"I need to speak with you. Privately. It won't take long."

The older man motioned towards a side door. Adrian followed him into a small, comfortable sitting room. To his embarrassment, once he was settled, he burst into uncontrollable tears. The priest quickly moved to his side, gathering the weeping form in his arms and rocking him gently from side to side. No longer able to contain himself, Adrian bared his soul, everything spilling out in a rush. He told him everything, starting with the rivalry he had felt with Belikov over Rose, moving on to the dreams. He detailed the madness and finished with visions of the horrible things he'd seen in the cave and how he had done nothing to prevent it.

Father Andrew listened in silence, not speaking until he was sure that Adrian was done. After a few moments of silence, he attempted to soothe the boy's soul.

"Adrian, visions are not always accurate. There are several accounts of Saint Vladimir prophesizing things that never came into being. You could be wrong. It might not have—"

"No." He pulled away, scrubbing his face with his palms to remove any evidence of his breakdown. "It happened. I know it did, and it's entirely my fault. All those people, dead because of me. Belikov… My God, how will I ever be able to face Rose, knowing that I could have stopped it? This will kill her."

"You cannot blame yourself, son. There's nothing you could have done—"

"Were you listening to me?" Adrian cut him off, jumping to his feet. He paced the room like a caged tiger. "I could have tried harder to remember. I could have warned them… stopped them."

The priest grabbed his arm as he passed, forcing him to stop his frenzied movements. "It might not have made a difference. Perhaps this was predestined to happen. Consider that it might be a… test of sorts. A trial. God works in mysterious ways—we cannot even begin to comprehend His actions."

Adrian sank down on the couch, suddenly exhausted. The words gave him no comfort. He did not believe in predestination. Every man was master of his own fate. God had more important things to do then move them around like chess pieces on some celestial game board.

"Stay here and rest awhile. Give your troubles to Him, even if just for a little while." Patting his hand, Father Andrew left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Adrian closed his eyes, reaching out—almost unconsciously—for Belikov's aura. It was still there, but it had altered dramatically. He knew why. He remembered being trapped in the vision, and the Russian emerging from the cave as Strigoi. Releasing the threads of spirit that connected him to the other man's aura, he slowly drifted off into a haunted, nightmare-filled sleep.

* * *

He awoke with a start, furious that he'd wasted time resting. He had no idea how long he had been here, but at some point during sleep, his mind had come to a realization, and he clung onto it with hope. Father Andrew may very well be right—the vision might be nothing at all. At this moment, Rose and Belikov could be in the clinic awaiting healing. Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbled out into the sanctuary, spotting Rose a moment later and all his hopeful thoughts drained away in an instant.

She was sitting in a dark corner, her face emotionless. She looked like a zombie as she sat with her arms around her drawn up knees staring into space. He chanced a glance at her aura and winced immediately. It was full of misery and sorrow, blues that were so dark and dismal that they almost blended in with the cloud of blackness that surrounded her. All happiness and hope were gone. There was no joy—no emotion other that complete and total despair.

As he watched, she stretched across the length of the pew, giving him the opportunity to move closer. She appeared to be on the verge of sleep, and for a moment, he considered entering her dreams, taking away the nightmares he knew that she would be facing. Instead, he made himself comfortable behind a tall statue, watching over her. If her sleep became too troubled, he would do what he could to ease her suffering.

All too soon Lissa appeared, shaking Rose gently to awaken her. Pulling on spirit, he cloaked himself, wanting to listen in—to hear what words Lissa used to console his little dhampire. He had always been lousy at being sympathetic; he hoped to learn something by listening in so he could offer words of comfort to Rosebud when she needed them.

"Rose," she said. "We've been looking all over for you. Have you been here the entire time?"

Rose sat up, bleary-eyed. "Pretty much."

She shook her head. "That was hours ago. You should go eat something."

"I'm not hungry." Rose grabbed her arm. "What time is it? Has the sun come up?"

"No. It's still about, oh, five hours away." Lissa touched her face and Arian watched her magic flare through her aura as she healed her best friend.

"You shouldn't do that," Rose said.

A faint smile crossed her lips. "I've been doing it all day. I've been helping Dr. Olendzki."

"I heard that, but wow. It just feels so strange. We've always kept it hidden, you know?"

"It doesn't matter if everyone knows now," she said with a shrug. "After everything that's happened, I had to help. So many people are hurt, and if it means my secret getting out…well, it had to happen sooner or later. Adrian's been helping too, though he can't do as much."

He hadn't been much help, but he had tried. Not that that made up for the fact he'd run out of the clinic earlier. Or the fact he hadn't been in time to prevent… He tilted his head as a bright canary yellow flare spiked through Rose's gloomy aura.

Rose sat straight up, her face looking stunned. "Oh my God, Liss. You can save him. You can help Dimitri."

"Rose," she said quietly. "They say Dimitri's dead."

"No," she said. "He can't be. You don't understand. … I think he was just injured. Probably badly. But if you're there when they bring him back, you can heal him." She stopped, her face scrunching up as if she were about to cry. "And if… if he did die … You could bring him back! Just like with me. He'd be shadow-kissed too."

He saw Lissa's expression and felt confused. She wouldn't… There was no way she would refuse. Not after everything Rose had done for her.

"I can't do that. Bringing people back from the dead is a huge power drain…and besides, I don't think I could do it on someone who has been dead, um, that long. I think it has to be recent."

Desperation filled Rose's voice. "But you have to try."

"I can't…" She swallowed. "You heard what I said to the queen. I meant it. I can't go around bringing every dead person back to life. That gets into the kind of abuse Victor wanted. It's why we kept this secret."

"You'd let him die? You wouldn't do this? You wouldn't do this for me?" Rose's voice was filled with pain. "I would do anything for you. You know that. And you won't do this for me?"

Lissa studied her and her aura flared as she _finally_ put two and two together. Adrian sighed with relief. Now there was no way she could refuse, not knowing that Belikov and Rose were in love. She would fix this—fix the colossal fuck up he had caused by refusing to face his vision.

Lissa pulled Rose into her arms. "I'm so sorry, Rose. I'm so, so sorry. I can't."

He stared at her, anger shooting through him, burning his veins, flushing his face with its intensity. He fought back the urge to stride over and grab her, to shake her until she retracted her words. All hope drained from Rose's aura, replaced by the tiniest trace of hatred. He didn't blame her in the slightest. As he watched Lissa lead Rose out the door, he felt his own hatred slowly begin taking root. Hatred towards the selfish, unthinking Dragomir princess—who had just destroyed the girl she claimed to love like a sister. He would never look at her the same way again. Vasilisa had just unknowingly shown her true colors. She proved that no matter what she might show the outside world, inside she was just another useless royal who cared more about herself than those around her.

Adrian stalked after them, sticking to the shadows. Sooner or later Lissa would leave Rose's side. When she did, he vowed that they were going to have a confrontation that would make the school's recent battle with the Strigoi look like a children's fucking tea party. It was time that someone called Vasilisa on her bullshit, and Adrian Ivashkov was just the man to do it.


	55. Never Trust a Woman

_**A/N I wanted to thank everyone who takes the time to leave a review. I read each and every one, and I truly appreciate them. I wish I had time to answer each one, but unfortunately, I cannot. I promise to get back into the habit of updating more frequently now that my life seems to be settling back down to its normal pace. Between working on my novel and common day to day issues, the past month has been a bit... hectic, to say the least. Again, thank you all for taking the time to read this story and for reviewing. Your words mean more to me than you'll ever know.**_

* * *

He followed them, first to the commons where Rose stared dismally at her surroundings, refusing to take even a single mouthful of food. When it became apparent that nothing could convince her to eat, Lissa took her by the hand, leading her across the campus to the Moroi dormitory.

He made himself comfortable, leaning against a tree, knowing that he might be waiting for quite a while. Almost without meaning to, he found himself falling into a dream—Rose's dream. He hadn't been attempting to dream walk, so he hovered in a pool of darkness, not a part of the dream, merely an observer, lurking on the outskirts. The dream played out in the center of the black space, like a television sitting in the center of a room.

This was somehow different—not the feeling he had when he consciously attempted to view another person's dreams. He didn't feel the thrum of spirit coursing through his veins, instead he only felt a strange, cold… emptiness. Stranger still, the hairs at the base of his neck stood on end, alerting him that something was wrong. He sensed the presence of another, lingering somewhere in the dark mists that swelled around him. His eyes made a continuous circuit, but there was no aura… nothing to indicate someone was hiding in the fog.

Rolling his shoulders in a futile attempt to lessen the tension in his body, he focused on the dream that was playing out before him, averting his eyes almost instantly. They were in the cabin, Belikov hovering over Rose, pressing his lips against hers as he sighed in contentment. Biting his lip, Adrian dared to glance back at the scene, hoping the worst was over—and it appeared that it was.

Rolling to his side, Belikov pulled Rose against his muscular chest, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

_"I love you, Roza." He kissed her again, his eyes locked onto hers, his face filled with emotion. "I'll always be here for you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."_

_"And I won't let anything happen to you," she promised. "I love you." He kissed her again, swallowing off any other words she might have added._

The dark fog around him swelled, a strange, tense feeling permeating the air around him, making it feel heavy and thick, as if a thunderstorm were slowly rolling in. His mind felt… odd, as if something were prodding at it, the way it sometimes felt when Lissa was trying to get a grasp on dream walking and studying him intently. He forced himself to ignore it—now certainly wasn't the time to get lost in yet another vision, or God forbid another bout of insanity.

From the darkness he heard a voice call out, the mournful cry of a soul in pain. "Roza…"

Adrian's body reacted instantaneously; sweat broke out on his brow as he realized this wasn't Rose's dream. Well, not entirely. She was here—her subconscious was, at least—but somehow, Belikov was here too. Belikov… who was supposed to be dead, or worse yet, Strigoi.

Strigoi didn't dream—everyone knew that. You had to sleep in order to dream, and that was something their dead bodies did not require. So how, in God's name, was he here?

A sudden movement in the darkness jerked him out of his contemplation, making him realize he might be in an immensely dangerous situation. He had never tested the theory that if one died in sleep or vision, they would never waken, and he really didn't want to start experimenting now. If Belikov was a newly turned Strigoi, his subconscious would be functioning at a primitive level. A Royal Moroi—who also happened to be his enemy—would be an irresistible snack.

Closing his eyes tightly, he concentrated on returning to his body. He imagined the crisp air caressing his cheeks, and the feeling of the roughly textured tree bark against his palms. Ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching him, he struggled to focus on the smell of evergreen trees, and the solid ground he had been standing on before being pulled into this strange, in between place.

It worked.

He came back to himself at the same instant he'd felt movement directly in front of him in the fog. A few seconds later and it might have been too late. His body bucked, his head smacking into the tree, as if he had been asleep and dreaming of falling from some great distance, twitching awake a mere moment before he'd impacted with the ground. Sighing in relief, he glanced at his watch, stunned that thirty minutes had passed. It had seemed like he'd been there no more than a few minutes.

Movement at the entrance to the dormitory caught his eye, as the tall, pale form of Vasilisa exited the building. He watched her as she drew closer to the place where he'd concealed himself, his anger flaring to life at the small, self-satisfied smile on her beautiful face. Waiting until she was even with him, he darted out of the brush, reaching out and grabbing her arm.

"Cousin—" his voice practically dripped with the disdain he felt for her. "We need to talk."

She arched a pale eyebrow, glancing down at his hand as if offended he was touching her. "Where have you been? Rose is—"

"Don't pretend you care about Rose, Vasilisa." He cut her off, leaning his head down so he could stare directly into her jade green eyes. "If you did, you wouldn't have refused to help her."

"I… I have been helping her! I've been sitting with her, trying to calm her down." She looked confused at his angry words.

"You play the innocent so well. Almost as well as Natasha Ozera. Too bad your act won't work on me."

Her look of confusion shifted into one that was almost fearful. "Adrian, have you been drinking?"

"No _'I haven't been drinking'_," he mocked her voice perfectly. "Do you know why I've abstained Vasilisa? Why I haven't had so much as a beer, even though I can feel the madness pressing down on me?" His grip on her arm tightened as she attempted to pull away. "Because I need to be sober if they bring Belikov's body back—not that I think that will happen. But on the off chance I'm wrong, someone needs to be able to save him. If you won't do it, I will."

Her lip curled. It was the slightest of movements, but he caught it. "You're not strong enough to bring someone back."

"Fuck you. I'll do it, even if it kills me."

"Don't be ridiculous—"

"Ridiculous? It's ridiculous to do the right thing? Since when?" His anger was apparent in his voice.

She bit her lip, looking away. "I didn't mean—"

"Why do I have the feeling there's more to this than meets the eye, Vasilisa? I heard the excuse you gave Rose, and it was complete bullshit. So tell me, what's the real reason you refuse to bring back the man your best friend loves?"

She glared at him. "I don't have to listen to this—not from _you_. Why don't you crawl back into whatever bottle you—"

His hand lashed out and he barely stopped himself in time. Another few inches and the Dragomir princess would have been sporting a lovely hand shaped red mark on her pale, perfect cheek. He glared at her, his green eyes snapping with barely contained fury.

"You selfish little bitch. I know the reason. I can see it in your aura. You're fucking jealous. For once in her life, Rose had something that was all hers. Not something you provided or that you bought for her. She had someone who loved her. Who put her first. Someone who took her attention away from _you_."

Lissa flinched. "That's not true. I would never stand in the way of Rose being happy."

"That, is a complete lie." He stared at her, the pieces slowly clicking together in his head. "Oh my God. You knew all this time. That's why you were questioning me. You suspected there was something between them. You were afraid she would chose him over you. Oh, Lissa…" He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself. "How long? How long did you suspect it?"

Her voice was almost a whisper. "A little over a month after we were brought back, Rose got hurt. She was walking on a bench and the wood gave way, trapping her ankle. When she screamed… he was there in an instant. The look on his face when he realized she was hurt… unconscious... it was indescribable. He tore the bench apart with his bare hands to get her free, then carried her to the clinic and wouldn't leave her side. I healed her, then left room. Only I didn't really leave. I watched them—I didn't shut the door all the way. He held her hand, and kept running his fingers through her hair. They way he touched her…" Lissa shook her head. "After that, I made a point to watch them when they were around each other. It was hard, because I had to keep my thoughts hidden from Rose. But it was obvious."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" She shot back, her eyes snapping with anger. "You knew. How the hell did you know, Adrian?"

"Their auras. And I overheard them arguing, at the resort." He sighed, loosening his grip on her arms.

"Their auras." She laughed. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that?"

"That's why you kept encouraging me to be patient—to pursue her. You wanted her to date me because it would keep her away from him."

She didn't answer for a moment, studying the ground. "Yes. Them… their relationship, if they wanted to be together, they would have to leave. He'd take her away from me. With you… she'd always put me first. She wouldn't have to make a choice."

"You had no right to make that call. They loved each other Lissa. Really loved each other."

"Don't act all high and mighty, Adrian. You didn't want them together any more than I did."

"No, I didn't. But I wanted her to be happy, so I kept my fucking mouth shut and my feelings to myself. When they were together… The only other people I've seen with auras that act like theirs are soul mates, Lissa. Do you understand what that means?"

She glared at him. "I know what soul mates are Adrian."

"That's not what I meant. Do you know what will happen to her if he's dead?" He studied her face, waiting for her to comprehend his meaning. "She won't recover, Lissa. She'll never be our Rose again. A part of her—an important, vital part of her—will be missing."

"You don't know that for sure. You're making an assumption about her. Rose is strong. She'll be fine—"

"I know it. I _feel _it. If we don't do everything we can to—"

He broke off, feeling that strange _pushing_ sensation in his head. As if someone were prodding at his mind, poking it from within.

"_Ivashkov…"_

Adrian's eyes widened in shock, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the ground, dragging Lissa with him. It was impossible. There was no way—

"_The last Dragomir can bring back the dead. You can enter minds. Yet this is impossible?"_

The voice was cold—emotionless—and harsh, exactly as it had been in his visions. "No—This can't…" He broke off, staring into Lissa's green eyes.

"Adrian? What is it? What are you seeing?" Her voice seemed to come from a million miles away, hazy and distant, nothing like the loud, clear voice in his head.

"_Where is my Roza, Adrian? Tell her I need her. That I long for her to join me. Tell her I'll be waiting for her. And know that if you touch her, if you try to claim what is mine, I will end you in the most painful way imaginable. I will awaken you, then spend an eternity torturing you, over and over again, until you beg for the final death. She is mine and mine alone. Forever."_

The sharp sting of Lissa's palm cracking across his face startled him, driving away the frightening voice that had somehow ensnared his mind.

"I'm sorry, I had to do that. You weren't breathing," she said

"Thanks… It… I can't hear him anymore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Hear who?"

His mouth was filled with the metallic taste of pure terror. "Belikov. He gave me a message to deliver to Rose." He laughed, and it was a crazy, bitter sounding bark. "You were right all along. I shouldn't have tested spirit out on him. That bridge thing you described… I can feel it, even now, like ice encasing my brain."

Her eyes widened. "He's alive?"

"No. He's…" He ran his hands through his hair. "Oh God—how am I supposed to tell Rose that the man she loves is a Strigoi? How… It will kill her, Liss."

"What was the message?"

He relayed it word for word, ignoring her gasp of dismay. Ignoring the way her aura flared with determination as he finished speaking. That was his undoing. He shouldn't have forgotten who he was dealing with, not for one single minute.

"Adrian—"

He looked directly at her, caught immediately in her gaze, falling into the depths of her eyes. For an instant, a memory flared to life and he struggled against the web her compulsion was weaving around his mind. The conversation they'd had at the ski resort echoed through him, and he knew what she was attempting.

_"Okay. So. You don't see auras, and you don't talk to people in dreams. What do you do?"_

_"I … I can heal people. Animals. Plants, too. I can bring dead things back to life." Lissa offered._

_"Really? Okay. You get credit for that. What else?"_

_"Um, I can use compulsion."_

_"We can all do that," he scoffed._

_"No, I can really do it. It's not hard. I can make people do anything I want—even bad things."_

_"So can I. I wonder what would happen if you tried to use it on me…." _

He bit his lip, feeling the sharp point of his canine tear into the soft, yielding flesh, hoping the pain would help him stay alert. "Lissa—don't do this. Please!"

"I have to Adrian." Her gaze never wavered and he could feel spirit lacing every word she uttered. "I have to protect Rose. You know she'll go to him, and I can't have that. She's meant to stay here. With me."

He wanted to fight her—to stop her from tampering with his mind, but it was futile. Her voice was so soothing… So soft and sweet… She was… right. She just wanted what was best for Rose. Her words cradled him, and in return, he accepted them as the gospel truth.

"You never heard Rose and I discussing Dimitri in the church. You and I never had a discussion about them. You will _never_ tell Rose what Dimitri said, Adrian. In fact, you never heard his voice in your head at all. There is nothing linking the two of you together. Dimitri Belikov is gone. He's dead, isn't he, Adrian?"

"Yes…" His voice was slurred, as if he'd been drinking heavily.

"Good. You need a drink now. You're going to go to your room and drink until you pass out."

He shook his head, staring at her, wondering why they were sitting on the cold, slushy ground. "Cousin? What happened?"

"Spirit. You healed so many people today, Adrian—I think it's affecting you." Lissa's voice was full of concern.

Groaning, he stood, pulling her to her feet and embracing her. He was lucky that she was there to help him. "You're right. I need a drink."

"Go on. You deserve it. I have to find Christian. Can you make it to your room okay?"

He nodded. "Thanks cousin. If you see Rose, tell her I… tell her I'm sorry for her loss."

"I will."

He wandered towards his room, wondering why she had had such a strange, amused expression on her face. What he'd said had not been amusing in the slightest.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he winced as a sharp, painful throbbing started in his head. It felt like something was trying to fight its way out—a disturbing feeling he'd never experienced before. Dismissing it as a side effect of all the spirit he'd been channeling, he grabbed a vodka bottle and collapsed on the couch. As the first burning rush of liquid trickled down his throat he sent up a silent prayer that tonight he would black out, passing into the dreamless oblivion that so often evaded him.


	56. Realizations

Never before had he tried so hard to get blotto drunk. Something was driving him to drink himself into oblivion. To embrace the darkness that total inebriation would bring. He longed for the alcohol to shut down his mind, granting him the merciful peace of unconsciousness.

It wasn't working.

Cursing his luck, he stumbled to the liquor cabinet, dragging out another bottle. The contents didn't matter—vodka, tequila, whiskey or gin, he didn't care what it was. His sole concern was to dull the throbbing, prodding ache in his head. Drawing deeply on the bottle he stared at the wall, wincing at the images his mind kept producing. Things he wanted to forget.

The way Rose and Belikov had smiled at each other, their faces radiant as they stared into each other's eyes, their auras embracing. The happy sound of the Russian's laughter as he sat on the very couch Adrian now reclined upon, watching those ridiculous old westerns. The way the man had offered to bond with him—taking his darkness should the opportunity arise—even though he knew how dangerous it would was, and how it would invade his mind.

It wasn't fair. What kind of a God would let something like this happen? Belikov was a good man—this shouldn't have happened to him. And Rose… poor, poor Rose. His head fell back and his breathing slowly deepened. A moment later, he was wandering in blackness, a void where nothing existed but the echoing of his own footsteps as he spun in a circle, taking in his surroundings.

"You can't keep me out forever, you know." The voice came from all around him, the accent lacing the words sending shivers down his spine.

"Belikov?"

"Who else? Unless you've tied yourself to other unwilling participants, that I am unaware of, _Lord Ivashkov_?" The voice made a mockery of his title.

"Strigoi don't sleep, so this can't be a spirit dream. This is just a nightmare."

"You are correct, of course. Strigoi do not sleep, or dream. I wish I could dream. I would dream of _her._" The voice seemed closer, as if the darkness were closing in. "I long to dream of her, and that should not be. You did this—his spirit is tied to yours somehow, and I cannot break it free from the shackles. It is not embracing the darkness as it should, and that makes me very unhappy. You do not want to be the reason I am unhappy, Adrian Ivashkov."

Adrian peered into the darkness, trying to process Belikov's words. Something didn't add up—why had he used the term 'his spirit'? "What do you mean—"

A loud pounding cut him off. He glanced around, searching for the source of the irritating noise, catching sight of something that scared him shitless. Two, glowing red circle were slowly approaching him.

"You are waking up, Lord Ivashkov. I suggest you find out how to break the fetters that are in place. If you do not, I will simply kill you in the hopes that darkness would infuse his spirit at the moment of your death."

The pounding increased, pulling him back into awareness as he tumbled off the couch. The pain in his head seemed duller, as if the strange dream had somehow lessened the intense pressure pushing at his brain. What in the hell was going on?

"For fucks sake! Hang on," he yelled at the door, wincing at the sound of his own voice. The copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed had left him feeling like absolute and total shit.

Stumbling over to the door he jerked it open, almost falling over in the process. "What the hell do you want?" He glared at the dark haired Moroi boy, grimacing as the interloper pushed his way inside the room.

"Christ—It smells like a distillery in here! How the hell much have you been drinking?" Christian stared at the empty bottles littering the floor. "How are you even alive?"

"Good genes?" Adrian shot back, staring at the littered floor of his apartment. It brought to mind the mess he'd made when they'd visited court, and the way Belikov had cleaned up the mess so no one would know what had happened. "Why are you here, Christian?"

"You need to… talk to Rose. Irritate her. Please."

"Irritate her? Are you kidding me? Why the hell would I want to do that?"

Christian sighed. "Because she's like a fucking zombie, Adrian. She's just going through the motions. Maybe you can snap her out of it."

"She's mourning, you idiot. She just lost the man she loved."

The next thing he knew he was pressed up against the door with Christian's hands balled up in the fabric of his shirt. "Don't start that shit again, Ivashkov, especially not now."

"It's true. Ask Petrov, she knows."

Christian released him, eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you—she wouldn't have allowed a teacher to take advantage of a student like that"

"He didn't take advantage of her. They were in love." Adrian leaned against the sofa, scrubbing his face with his palms. "Have they scheduled the memorial yet?"

"Yeah—it was two days ago."

His head snapped up. "What? How long was I out?"

"They brought the bodies back four days ago."

"Was Belikov one of them?"

Christian looked away. "No. They said his name at the service, but… everyone knows his body wasn't recovered."

"He's Strigoi."

"You don't know that. A big guy like him, they might have taken him along as…"

"A feeder." Adrian finished the sentence for him, closing his eyes and letting his head fall forward. "What does Lissa think—about Rose?"

"She's worried. Rose won't eat. Won't talk to any of us. She lets Lissa lead her around, but it's like she's not really there." He leaned against the wall. "I wish she'd told us. Maybe if she had… I don't know, we could have done something."

"Like what, keep him out of the cave that night? I tried that—I called on the radio and told them I'd had a vision and they needed to keep Rose and Belikov out of it. They didn't believe me." Adrian shoved is feet into a pair of boots, grabbing his keys. "Come on, take me to her. Maybe you're right and a little irritation is what she needs."

They walked across the campus in silence, heading towards the dhampire dorms. He saw Alberta approaching from the other direction, her head down and her face grim. Reaching over, he stopped Christian in his tracks.

"Guardian Petrov, can we talk for a minute?"

Alberta jerked at the sound of his voice, then nodded her acquiescence. "Yes Lord Ivashkov?"

"Dimitri's things… what's going to happen to them?"

"They'll be… disposed of in a few days, once someone gets around to emptying his room."

"No. They won't. If you think for one minute—"

"I don't like it any more than you do, Adrian, but it's procedure."

Pulling out his phone he glared at the woman he'd considered a friend. "Fuck procedure. If anyone touches his things, I'll make sure they can't even get a job guarding a fucking parking garage."

"I know it seems cold—"

Christian let out a bitter laugh. "Cold? It's fucking heartless, Guardian Petrov."

Adrian stepped away from them, talking quietly into his phone as he watched Alberta and Christian eye each other uncomfortably.

"So," he heard Christian say, "you knew about Rose and Belikov, huh?"

Alberta glared at Adrian, not answering the question. He smirked at her, raising an eyebrow at her menacing expression. Finishing his conversation, he shoved the phone in his pocket as he rejoined them.

"There's a fax waiting for you in your office—Kirova is receiving one as well. No one is allowed in that room except me. I'll clean it out. His things will be stored at court."

"Why do you even care, Adrian?" She asked. He could tell she was exasperated by his interference.

"It's for Rose. She might want to have his things, when she comes to terms with what's happened."

Alberta's face fell. "I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't." He smirked at her crestfallen expression. "But I did. If you could have some boxes left outside the door, I'd appreciate it."

She nodded, continuing down the path towards the administration building.

"And I'll need a key," he called after her.

She threw up her hand to indicate she'd heard him, quickening her pace as if eager to make her getaway before he voiced further demands. He sighed, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension that was building in them.

"I assume you called your aunt?" Christian asked.

""Who else?"

"How'd you get her to agree? I mean, Alberta's right, they were just operating by the book."

Adrian shoved his hands under his arms, wishing he'd grabbed a jacket. "I told her the truth."

"That you're saving them for Belikov's underage student girlfriend?"

"No." He frowned at Ozera's sarcastic comment. "I told her that Dimitri Belikov had helped me out on more than one occasion when spirit was affecting me. More importantly, I told her that he was my friend."

He kept walking, ignoring Christian's shocked expression. Chewing at his bottom lip he pondered the word friend, and how he had realized, too late, that that was indeed what Belikov had been. Their relationship may have been fucked up beyond belief due to the fact they both loved Rose—but what else did you call a man who offered to save you from yourself, no matter what it cost them? Friend seemed like too mild a word, in his opinion.

* * *

They found Rose in the commons, sitting beside Lissa, staring off into space. She seemed oblivious to the world around her, not listening to the stream of running commentary that Lissa appeared to be providing. Adrian was shocked by her appearance.

Her normally shiny hair was knotted and dirty, her close wrinkled and unwashed. In all honesty, she looked as if she hadn't had a bath in days. He wondered if it was because she couldn't bear to wash away the traces of Belikov's skin against her body.

"Hey little dhampire, did you miss me?" He asked, sliding onto the seat next to hers. "You're looking exceptionally lovely today."

She didn't even blink.

He studied her aura, wincing at the blackness. It was as if all traces of color had drained out of her, leaving behind only the dismal grays and muted blues. There was no… life reflected around her—almost as if she were an automaton, just going through the motions. He felt Christian's gaze weighing down on him, his eyes flicking up to take in the boys worried expression. A tray full of food sat before Rose, even the donuts untouched.

"Mind if I steal one of those?" He reached out, taking the doughnut and biting into it. "Ummmm. Delicious, just like you."

Nothing. Not a sarcastic quip. Not the hint of a smile. He'd been right. Losing Belikov had killed the fire within her, the spark that made Rose… well, Rose.

"Hey Rose, guess what Adrian did?" Christian leaned towards her, smirking. "He pissed Alberta off. When she said they were going to throw out Guardian Belikov's things—" He stopped in mid-sentence, stunned as she winced, her face expressing pure agony. "Shit. I'm sorry Rose. I… Adrian pulled rank. Nobody's going to touch his stuff. Queen's orders."

"Liss, I'm really tired. I'm going to head back to my room." Rose's voice was barely a whisper.

Lissa glared at Christian. "I'm not very hungry either. Let's go."

"No, I… I just need to be alone right now. I'll come see you in a little while." Rose left the table without waiting for an answer.

"Good job Christian!" Lissa smack his arm, her eyes narrowed. "Why would you bring something like that up?"

"I thought it would make her happy, to know Adrian saved his stuff. I wasn't thinking." Christian buried his head in his hands.

"Well since you didn't think, you just volunteered yourself for cleanup duty." Adrian dropped the half eaten doughnut on Rose's abandoned tray. "You can help me out with cleaning out his room tomorrow."

He stood up. "Has she been sleeping, Lissa?"

"Barely. When she does, she has nightmares about… that night."

"I figured as much. I'm going back to my room. I'll try to visit her dreams. At least I can keep the nightmares at bay."

Barely paying attention to their murmured goodbyes, he left the building, watching Rose's hunched over figure as it walked away, trying to pretend he didn't hear her crying.


	57. A Chance at Love

The next morning he stopped by Alberta's office, collecting the key and a note granting him admission to Belikov's room. Classes had yet to resume, and Christian was waiting outside the building, his face somber, as if he would rather be doing something else. That made two of them.

"You know, you don't have to do this." Adrian offered as they entered the building. He showed the note to the guardian behind the desk then headed for the stairs. "I'm sure you have better things to do than box up the remainders of someone's life."

"Fuck you. Rose is my friend—I'm doing this for her."

"I won't tell her you said that." Adrian smirked. "On second thought, maybe I will. The shock alone might snap her out of her daze."

They both stopped, staring at the door. A stack of unassembled cardboard boxes leaned against the wall, waiting for them. Sighing, Adrian unlocked the door, stepping inside the room that he'd only seen in his dreams. Everything was exactly the same, with the exception of a towel that was thrown across the back of the single chair in front of the desk.

"You want to start on the bookcase?" He asked.

Christian drug the stack of boxes in from the hall and they both sat on the floor, assembling them in silence. "This feels so… morbid, you know?"

"Yeah." Adrian took a box over to the desk and began dumping the contents of the drawers into it, not bothering to sort anything. Rose could do that, when and if she ever decided it was time for closure.

"That's not how you pack, Ivashkov," Christian sighed. " Maybe you should do the books and I'll do the desk."

They switched places, Adrian slowly filling two boxes with the battered books that packed the shelves. He realized that at some point, Christian had stopped organizing the items in the box and had seated himself in the chair, staring sadly at something in his hand.

"What is it?"

"A picture of Rose. There's a bunch of them."

Adrian leaned over his shoulder, taking the pictures one by one as Christian leafed through them. Someone had documented a few of their practices, judging by the variety. Some were of Rose practicing with a stake, some were of Rose and Belikov sparing. Adrian turned away, a lump in his throat, unable to look at anymore. He was almost relieved to hear a faint knock at the door.

It was Lissa.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Rose?" He asked.

"She wanted to go to the library—something about an extra credit paper for our animal behavior class." Lissa walked over to the Christian, leaning over his shoulder as Adrian had been doing a moment before.

Christian set the pictures in the box with a sigh. "I hate this. I feel like a voyeur or something, like we're invading his privacy."

Lissa kissed his forehead. "It doesn't matter, Chris. He's gone."

Christian's jaw tightened. "That doesn't mean it's right. I hated when Tasha went through my parent's things."

Lissa grabbed a box and walked over to the closet. "Come help me with the closet. We can do the desk later." She opened the closet, frowning. "Well, he didn't have many clothes, that's for sure."

"He was a guardian, Lissa, he didn't need them." It came out harsher than he'd intended. "I'm sorry Cousin. This isn't easy on any of us."

She nodded, handing Christian an armful of clothing. "I know."

He'd just packed away the last book when Lissa shrieked, ducking as a box tumbled off the shelf, its contents raining down around her. "Sorry, I thought I had it—the box broke." She bent down, gathering up the items that had spilled across the floor, only to make a small, sad sound a moment later.

"Liss? What's wrong?" Christian shoved the box of clothing out of the way, moving to her side.

"Lip gloss. Rose's favorite kind. I wondered how she never seemed to run out of it. He.. Dimitri was buying it for her. There must be ten tubes of it here."

Adrian winced. This little operation had definitely not been one of his better ideas. Maybe he should have hired someone to do this, instead of subjecting them all to the pain of seeing just how much Belikov cared for Rose. "Put it all in a box, Lissa. Don't even look at the stuff, not right now."

She didn't hear him, having already moved on to the next item. "It's a stake." Her voice was teary, her fingers tracing over what he thought to be an engraving.

Walking over he took it from her, his brow furrowing as he read the Cyrillic message that encircled a beautifully crafted rose. "May this stake protect that which I hold most dear, my life, my love, my Roza."

"Oh God, I can't do this. I should have helped her. I should have gone with them to the cave." Lissa broke down, burying her face in Christian's chest.

"Maybe we should call it a day." Christian looked over at Adrian, waiting for agreement.

"Yeah, we've got a lot done. We can come back tomorrow." Shoving the stake down in the clothing box, Adrian walked over to the door. "I don't know about you guys, but I need a fucking drink."

He was halfway to drunk when she showed up at his door several hours later. It was almost time for the students curfew, and he couldn't help but wonder why she was out this late—standing in his doorway, no less. Trying to keep the surprise he was feeling off his face, he studied her. If anything, she looked worse than ever, her hair still unbrushed, her cheeks tear stained. But her eyes were the worst, they looked completely…haunted.

"Little dhampir," he said, stepping aside. "Come in."

She did, stepping around him and gazing around the room. Her hands were shaking, a small tremble that tore at his heart. He hated to see her suffering like this. Stopping at the end table, she picked up the half empty vodka bottle, wincing when she saw the Cyrillic lettering on the label.

"Bad time?" She asked, setting it back down.

"Never a bad time for you," he offered gallantly. Waving her toward an armchair he collapsed on the couch. "Haven't seen much of you."

She leaned back. "I haven't wanted to be seen." She paused, studying her hands. "You look worse than I do. I didn't think that was possible."

He picked up the bottle and took a long drink. "Nah, you always look good. As for me … well, it's hard to explain. The auras are getting to me. There's so much sorrow around here. You can't even begin to understand. It radiates from everyone on a spiritual level. It's overwhelming. It makes your dark aura downright cheerful."

"Is that why you're drinking?"

For a brief moment, he considered telling her the truth—that he was drinking because he felt responsible for Belikov's death. He dismissed the thought, knowing she would hate him forever, if she ever learned the truth. Instead, he opted for an easy out—one that she would accept without question.

"Yup. It's shut my aura-vision right off, thankfully, so I can't give you a report today." It was a lie, of course. He was nowhere near that drunk—her aura was perfectly visible to him, but she had no way of knowing that. He offered her the bottle, not surprised when she shook her head. Rose wasn't one to drink away her sorrows. Shrugging, he took another drink. "So what can I do for you, Rose? I have a feeling you aren't here to check on me."

"I need money," she said.

He arched an eyebrow. At least she wasn't beating around the bush. "Unexpected. From you, at least. I get that kind of request a lot from others. Pray tell, what would I be funding?"

She glanced away from him, focusing on the television. It was a commercial for some kind of deodorant.

"I'm leaving the Academy," she said finally, not looking away from the television. He had a feeling she wasn't seeing the advertisement—probably instead reliving Belikov's final moments deep inside her brain.

"Also unexpected. You're only a few months out from graduation."

She tore her gaze away from the T.V., finally meeting his eyes. "It doesn't matter. I have things to do now."

"I never figured you'd be one of the dropout guardians. You going to join the blood whores?"

"No," Rose said. "Of course not."

"Don't act so offended. That's not an unreasonable assumption. If you're not going to be a guardian, what else are you going to do?"

"I told you. I have things I have to take care of."

He arched an eyebrow. "Things that are going to get you into trouble?" She shrugged, as if it didn't really matter, making him laugh. "Stupid question, huh? Everything you do gets you in trouble." He propped his elbow up on the couch's arm and rested his chin in his hand. "Why'd you come to me for money?"

"Because you have it."

This also made him laugh. "And why do you think I'll give it to you?"

She didn't say anything, instead just looking at him with a soft, pleading expression. He felt his smile fading away, his eyes narrowing in frustration. He jerked his gaze away from her big brown eyes, mentally cursing himself.

"Damn it, Rose. Don't do that. Not now. You're playing on how I feel about you. That's not fair." He gulped more vodka.

She stood up, moving quickly to his side and claiming one of his hands. "Please, Adrian," she said. "Please help me. You're the only one I can go to."

He wanted to help her. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her until the pain faded from her eyes. To embrace her until Belikov was nothing more than a distant memory. "That's not fair," he repeated, slurring his words a little. He prayed she would think it was due to the alcohol and not because of the rush of emotion he was fighting. "You're using those come-hither eyes on me, but it's not me you want. It's never been me. It's always been Belikov, and God only knows what you'll do now that he's gone."

"Will you help me?" Her face crumpled as if she were about to break down. "You're the only one I could talk to… the only one who really understands me…."

"Are you coming back?" he countered.

"Eventually."

Tipping his head back, he exhaled a heavy breath. "Maybe it's for the best if you leave. Maybe you'll get over him faster if you go away for a while. Wouldn't hurt to be away from Lissa's aura either. It might slow yours from darkening—stop this rage you always seem to be in. You need to be happier. And stop seeing ghosts."

"Lissa isn't why I'm seeing ghosts. Well, she is, but not in the way you think. I see the ghosts because I'm shadow-kissed. I'm tied to the world of the dead, and the more I kill, the stronger that connection becomes. It's why I see the dead and why I feel weird when Strigoi are near. I can sense them now. They're tied to that world too."

"You're saying the auras mean nothing? That you aren't taking away the effects of spirit?" He frowned, remembering the strange nightmare he'd had, and Belikov's strange comments about darkening spirit. Could the darkness that invaded spirit users somehow tied to the evil that created a Strigoi? If so, how did Rose function under the cloud of darkness that surrounded her?

"No. That's happening too. That's why this has all been so confusing. I thought there was just one thing going on, but there've been two. I see the ghosts because of being shadow-kissed. I'm getting… upset and angry… bad, even… because I'm taking away Lissa's dark side. That's why my aura's darkening, why I'm getting so enraged lately. Right now, it just sort of plays out as a really bad temper…." She frowned, lost in her own mind for a moment or two. "But I don't know what it'll turn into next."

That made sense—sort of. The uncontrollable rage could be compared to a Strigoi's uncontrollable blood lust. It was something worth looking into. Adrian sighed. "Why is everything so complicated with you?"

"Will you help me? Please, Adrian?" She ran her fingers along his hand, sending chills racing up his spine. "Please help me."

She was hitting below the belt, and he could tell it was killing her to do it. This wasn't Rose… Rose didn't seek help from outside sources—she always handled things on her own and didn't let other people help her. Except Belikov. Now that he was gone… He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, hating himself for the thoughts that shot through his head. He might have a shot now—he could turn her request into an opportunity for himself. Barter away money for a chance to prove how much he truly cared for her.

He looked over at her, trying to hide the depth of his feelings. "When you come back, will you give me a fair shot?"

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"It's like I said. You've never wanted me, never even considered me. The flowers, the flirting … it rolled right off you. You were so gone for him, and nobody noticed. If you go do your thing, will you take me seriously? Will you give me a chance when you return?"

Rose stared at him, her eyes betraying her shock. He wasn't so drunk that he couldn't see the regret that flashed, coloring her aura a deep burgundy, or the blue green dismay she felt at his question. As suddenly as the colors appeared, they vanished, replaced by a flat, dull charcoal gray. She was thinking about Belikov again. He bit back an angry comment. Knowing it wouldn't help his cause. It wasn't her fault—the man hadn't been dead a week, and already Adrian was moving in, like a vulture, circling a fresh corpse. He felt sickened by his actions, but still he pressed on.

"Will you?" he asked, trying to keep the pain he felt at her reaction out of his voice.

"Of course."

It was obvious she didn't want to. He wondered if she realized that she was lying to his face. Adrian looked away and drank more vodka. There wasn't much left. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

Setting the bottle down, he stood up and walked off into the bedroom. Digging into the bottom drawer of his nightstand, he pulled out the large wad of bills Tatiana had sent him the week before. He smiled as he remembered the card that had accompanied the currency—his aunt had said he should add the enclosed amount to his 'cigarette fund'. Returning to the living area, he handed the roll of bills to Rose without a word, moving over to the desk to pick up the telephone. Thankfully, he could do everything he needed by making a few quick phone calls.

The bank manager was more than acquiescent to whatever request he made. Adrian Ivashkov's trust fund was one of the financial institutions largest accounts. While he made the necessary arrangements, he watched Rose fidgeting on the couch. She kept sliding her hand under her hair, only to jerk it back a moment later. He wondered—briefly—if tattooing the survivors had been a part of the memorial service. Judging by her actions, he'd bet it had been, she looked as if something on her neck was bothering her.

Finishing his calls, he jotted down the name and address of the nearest branch of the bank on a monogramed sheet of letterhead, handing it over to Rose. "Go there," he said. "I'm guessing you have to go to Missoula first anyway if you're actually going on to anywhere civilized. There's an account set up for you with … a lot of money in it. Talk to them, and they'll finish the paperwork with you."

She stood up and stuffed the bills in her jacket. "Thank you."

She stared at the carpet for a minute, her expression torn. It looked as if she were having some kind of internal battle, over what, he couldn't even hazard a guess. Suddenly her arms shot out, encircling his body, shocking him into stillness. Rose was not a hugger. Hell, the two times this had happened before, he'd had to beg her for an embrace. He forced his stiff body to relax, sliding his arms around her back as his eyes fell closed and he allowed himself to revel in the nearness of her body. After a minute or two—all too soon, in his opinion—he forced himself to let go, earning the soft brush of her lips against his cheek as a reward for his gentlemanly behavior. The feel of her lips against his skin was so unexpected that it stole his breath for a moment.

"I won't forget this," she murmured in his ear.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where you're going?" he asked.

"No. I'm sorry."

"Just keep your promise and come back." He caught her gaze, trying to make her see how important she was to him.

"I didn't actually use the word promise," she pointed out.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You're right. I'm going to miss you, little dhampir. Be careful. If you ever need anything, let me know. I'll be waiting for you."

She smiled—a sad, brokenhearted smile that did not reach her eyes. "Thank you, Adrian."

He watched her walk down the hall, his heart aching. Leaning against the door frame, he decided that the fact she hadn't said goodbye could be a considered a good thing. It meant she might change her mind about leaving—stranger things had happened, after all. Even if she went through with her crazy plan to leave, she'd promised him a chance. After she got Belikov out of her heart, she'd be back, and finally, Adrian Ivashkov would get his chance with the girl he'd fallen in love with.

Shutting the door behind him, he turned off the television, smiling to himself as he imagined Rose in a tiny little bikini, sunning herself on some distant beach as she struggled through her turbulent emotions. She deserved to get away for a while. A vacation was probably just what the doctor ordered. Too bad he hadn't thought to point out that misery loves company—he would have made an excellent travel companion, because misery was his middle name.


	58. Did I Say That Out Loud?

After Rose left his room, he sat in silence for a while, finally forcing himself out the door and across the campus to the building that housed Belikov's room. He spent several hours packing and labeling boxes, stopping from time to time to take a drink from the bottle he'd smuggled over in the deep inner pocket of his pea coat.

The task did not get any easier. He'd found dozens of half written love notes to Rose, hidden in a shoe box underneath the Russian's bed. Each one apologizing for his actions, detailing the regret the man had felt over their impossible situation. Each one declaring his undying love, and his dreams of a future where they were free of their duties. After the first seven letters, Adrian crammed the lid back on the box, sealing away the heart wrenching missives under a layer of packing tape. Shoving the box aside, he examined the room. It was almost done—a few more hours of hard work and he'd be able to arrange for the boxes to be shipped on to their new home at Court.

Wandering into the small bathroom, he picked up the small glass bottle of aftershave sitting beside the sink. Smiling, he remembered the way Rose always buried her nose in Belikov's coat, enamored by the way he smelled. He slipped the bottle into his pocket—when she returned, maybe he'd wear it for her.

He finished with the bathroom quickly—there wasn't much to be packed, Belikov had apparently thought taking care of one's appearance was a waste of time—returning to the bedroom and sinking down on the bed with a sigh. He was too tired to make his way back to the guest quarters. Curling up on the mattress, he ignored the fact the bed had already been stripped, the pillows and blankets packed away only a few hours before. Resting his head on his arm, he drifted off to sleep, imagining Rose waiting for him—a bottle of coconut scented tanning lotion in hand, wanting his help applying it to her curvaceous body.

The white sand beach stretched into the horizon, deserted except for an over sized blue towel with the stunning dhampir girl sprawled out on top of it. Smiling up at him in what could only be described as a suggestive manner, Rose held out the bottle.

"Do my back?"

He complied immediately, massaging the sweet smelling oil into her tanned skin, savoring the feeling of her silky skin beneath his fingers. She let out a tiny moan of pleasure, the sound going straight to his groin and arousing him instantly.

"Untie the straps, please. I don't want tan lines."

He tugged at the one behind her neck and it slid undone easily. The thin string that crossed her back, however, decided to make his life difficult. Cursing the knot, he struggled to unfasten it. He was so intent on undoing the tangle that he failed to notice the sky darkening above them. As the strap fell away and he ran his hands across the now naked skin of her back, a low, furious snarling sound reached his ears. Less than a second later, he was air born, landing in a painful heap several feet away.

"Did you think I was joking with you?" Belikov stalked towards him, fangs bared. "She is mine, Ivashkov. MINE."

Adrian backed away on his hands and knees, wondering for a moment why Rose was just lying there, unresponsive. Surely, she should be jumping with joy at the sound of her lover's voice, or at least looking up at him. Belikov followed his eyes, his lips twisting up in an evil grin as he turned towards the seemingly unconscious girl behind him.

"NO!" Adrian forced himself to his feet, hurling himself at the taller man. "You won't hurt her!

"I would never hurt my Roza. Besides, I think you'll find I can and will do whatever I want, Adrian, this is my vision, not yours."

Adrian froze, unable to move a muscle. He stared in horror as the Russian kneeled over Roses body, threading his long fingers through her thick, dark hair. Concentrating, he willed himself to move, struggling against whatever invisible power held him suspended in mid-air. It was a futile effort.

"Roza. How I've missed you, my love." Belikov crooned as he tugged at her hair, arching her head back and exposing the tanned, smooth column of her throat. Casting one last superior smirk in Adrian's direction, his fangs buried themselves in her neck, earning a moan of pleasure from Rose in response.

Screaming, Adrian sat up, head swiveling as he took in his surroundings. "Just a fucking dream. She's okay." His heart was racing so fast he thought for a moment he might be going into cardiac arrest. He had to stop her—she had to stay here with him, where she'd be safe. Bolting out the door, he raced down the stairs, jogging across campus. He reached Rose's dorm room in record time, pounding on the door. It opened almost immediately, revealing Christian Ozera.

"Where's Rose?" He wheezed out, trying to catch his breath.

Ozera stepped back, revealing Lissa, curled up on Rose's bed, clutching the pillow to her chest as she sobbed uncontrollably. His voice was husky when he answered. "She left this morning."

Too late—once again he was too late. He'd slept the day away, trapped in another goddamned nightmare. Sliding down the wall, his head fell into his hands. He heard the door close, and a moment later the quiet creak of bed springs as Christian joined Lissa on the bed.

"She… she hates me," Lissa choked out. "The things she said…"

"Whatever she said… you know she didn't mean it, Liss. She loves you." Christian crooned, trying to calm her down.

"No.. you don't understand. I tried to make her stay—I tried to use compulsion on her."

His head shot up, his dark green eyes locking with Christian's icy blue ones. Rose would forgive a lot of things, but that… "What happened, Lissa? Start at the beginning."

"I can't… I don't want to remember. It hurts too much." Her body was shaking from the force of her sobs. "She's my bond mate! How could she do this to me?"

Adrian stared at Christian, trying to put his thoughts into words. "Can I.. help her?"

Ozera looked at his hysterical girlfriend, weighing the man's words. "Only if you promise not to try anything… funny."

Nodding, Adrian crawled over to the bed, running his hand through Lissa's silky, fair hair. "Vasilisa—look at me."

Her tear filled eyes unsuspectingly jerked up to his face, and slowly her sobs drew to a halt as she fell into his compulsion. He pulled on spirit, channeling it into her body then pulling it back, just like he'd done with Belikov that day in his room. "Show me what happened Lissa. Think about what happened with Rose."

Her eyes fell closed and a moment later the images rolled through his mind. He was in Lissa's body, standing within view of the gates, shadowed by the trees that surrounded them. Rose stood before her, the expression on her face one of sorrow. They appeared to be in the middle of a discussion—one that could become a heated argument far too easily.

_"I understand that you're trying to cope and that this is as good a way as any. You need to find another way to let him go." Lissa said._

_Rose shook her head. "I have to do this."_

_"Even if it means leaving me?"_

_"I have to do this," she repeated, her eyes sad. "I'm sorry."_

_"You're supposed to be my guardian and go with me to college," Lissa argued. "You're shadow-kissed. We're supposed to be together. If you leave me …"_

_"If I leave you, they'll get you another guardian. Two of them. You're the last Dragomir. They'll keep you safe."_

_"But they won't be you, Rose," she argued, pulling on spirit and forcing it into the dhampires mind. She focused on her will—her desire__—Rose had to stay here, no matter what. She belonged here, with Lissa. She was Lissa's—she always had been and always would be. She couldn't leave. _

_"Stop it!" Rose yelled, turning away. Do not use compulsion on me. You're my friend. Friends don't use their powers on each other."_

_"Friends don't abandon each other," Lissa snapped back. "If you were my friend, you wouldn't do it."_

_Rose spun back around, glaring at her. There were sparkling flashes snapping from her aura like jagged streaks of black lightening. She shouted in Lissa's face, enraged. "It's not about you, okay? This time, it's about me. Not you. All my life, Lissa … all my life, it's been the same. They come first. I've lived my life for you. I've trained to be your shadow, but you know what? I want to come first. I need to take care of myself for once. I'm tired of looking out for everyone else and having to put aside what I want. Dimitri and I did that, and look what happened. He's gone. I will never hold him again—"_

The vision faded before it played to completion as Lissa overrode his compulsion, her hand cracking out across his face. "Don't ever do that to me again," she hissed, her eyes filled with dark fury.

His eyes shot to her aura. Not surprisingly, it was encircled with a thin line of darkness. As he watched it slowly drained away, taking her rage along with it. He smirked, shaking his head. "She must not hate you too much, Cousin. She just pulled the darkness away from you."

Getting to his feet, he left the room without another word. The angry words Rose had hurled at Lissa wounded him deeply. It was one thing to know she still loved the other man, another thing entirely to see it reflected in her eyes and to hear it echoing in her voice as she spoke of never holding Belikov in her arms again. He had the horrible feeling that when Rose returned and he got his chance with her, he still wouldn't be able to win her heart. The thought of her imagining Belikov every time he embraced her was excruciatingly painful. Sadder still, he knew he would accept it, just for the chance to hold her in his arms.

* * *

He overslept again the next day—the nightmares were seriously wreaking havoc on his sleep, not to mention on his already fragile mental state. By the time he got to the commons, dinner was almost over. Approaching the table where they all usually gathered, he was dismayed to find Lissa pointedly ignoring him. Christian, not wanting to incur her wrath, shot him an apologetic look before proceeding to do the same thing. It hurt his feelings—he had only been trying to help Lissa overcome her debilitating sadness. How could he erase her pain if he didn't know the exact cause? He shoved his emotions to the side and left without uttering a word in his defense, deciding he was better off alone, for the time being.

Finishing up the job in Belikov's room, he arranged for the boxes to be transported to the holding facility his aunt had set aside for his personal use. When Rose came back, he'd turn the key to the room over to her, and she could do whatever she wanted with the things. He half hoped she would simply dispose of everything without a second thought, because that, in his opinion, would be proof that she had finally moved on.

He wandered around the campus, occasionally stopping to take a swig from the almost empty bottle he held at his side. He missed her already, and she'd only been gone a day. How the hell was he going to amuse himself until she decided to come back? He tilted his head back to study the stars overhead. The sky was darkening the way it always did just before it gave way to a new dawn, a warning that sunrise was swiftly approaching.

He didn't want to return to his room—right now, it haunted him, reminding him it was the last place he'd seen Rose. Moving further back into the trees, he found a secluded area that would remain hidden in shadows once the sun reached its peak. Settling himself in the hollow of tree, he finished off his bottle, tucking it back into his pocket. He could feel the comforting weight of his flask, but opted not to drink it—yet. He didn't want to be too inebriated to pull on his element. As his eyes slipped closed, he sent his consciousness out, reaching for his Rosebud, hoping he would find her safe and sound.

It was incredibly easy this time, happening almost immediately. Adrian didn't enter the dream—he simply watched over her, exerting the slightest bit of spirit to change her dream from a nightmare of Belikov's attack in the caves to something a bit more pleasant. He wished he could discern her location somehow, but there was no way for him to do so without questioning her directly. It was unfortunate he'd never merged their minds together the way he had done with the Russian, because then he would have been able to track her without a second thought.

He wondered—briefly—if minds could be merged in a spirit dream, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it appeared. In all honesty, he was scared to attempt it. Spirit's darkness was already affecting his own dreams—he didn't dare pull the kind of power that a merging would require.

He had no idea how long he watched her frolicking in the meadow he'd constructed, time passed differently in dreams. It didn't really matter to him, Adrian's only concern was Rose. She looked so happy as she ran through the waist high grass with the dream version of Belikov he'd created laughing as he chased after her.

"Lord Ivashkov? Are you all right?"

The feel of someone gently nudging his shoulder drug him away from the joyous couple, pulling him back into his cold, uncomfortable body. He shifted, wincing as his stiff limbs protested , prickling at his sudden movement. He yawned, eyes still closed, wondering who in the hell was in his room and why he felt so damned sore.

"What the fuck? I didn't ask for a wake up call. How the hell did you get in here anyway?"

"We're in the middle of the forest, sir."

Opening his eyes he sighed in exasperation as he took in the overly helpful face of his least favorite person on campus. He looked around, letting out a soft laugh. "Huh. How about that. Wonder how I got here."

Digging around in his pocket, he pulled out his flask, unscrewing the cap, trying to remember why he had thought sleeping in the great outdoors was a good idea. The guardian shifted, pulling his attention back to the stocky man in front of him. He held out the flask, offering it up as a peace token.

"Want a drink, Guardian Dick?"

The man ignored the flask. "Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Stan Alto, not Dick."

Shrugging, Adrian took a healthy swig, recapping the flask as he answered. "Because you acted like a dick the first time we met. Not to mention the fact you terrorized my little dhampire almost every day."

"I was trying to teach her discipline. She—"

"Ah ah ah, Dick. You're lying to me. Didn't anyone tell you? I see auras. And right now yours is ratting you out. Wanna try again?"

Alto looked away, his face flushing. "It's personal."

"Oh God, don't tell me you have the hots for her too? What the hell is wrong with you guys? I thought guardians were supposed to be trained to show some fucking control!"

"Wha—No! Nothing like that. Not Rose…" It came out a mumble.

Adrian cocked his head, smirking as the colors around the man shifted, betraying his embarrassment. "Sure you don't want a drink, Stan? I'll get the answer out of you eventually. A little whiskey might make it slide off your tongue a bit easier."

"Her mother, okay? I had a… I asked her mother out a few times, and she wasn't very nice when she turned me down."

"So you decided to make Rose's life hell because of her mother?" Adrian arched a dark brow. "Pretty shitty."

"I couldn't help it, okay? They're so much alike…" Stan glared at the ground. "I feel bad about it—like maybe she left because I was so tough on her. That along with what happened to her mentor might have pushed her over the edge."

"Nah, it had nothing to do with you. She just needed a little break. She'll be back before you know it."

"You know where she is, don't you?" Alto's eyes narrowed. "You'd have to, you're her boyfriend."

Adrian couldn't contain a sarcastic laugh. "Uh—nope. Wrong guy. I'm too young for her. And probably too short. And too American. She likes her men…" He stopped, horrified as soon as the words left his mouth. He couldn't believe he'd let Rose's secret slip. Stan was staring at him, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open in a way that made him look idiotic. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to pretend you didn't hear that, huh?

"I fucking _knew_ it!" Alto began to pace. "I told Alberta there was something going on with them. The way they acted on that trip to…" He broke off, staring into space, a look of horror slowly creeping across his face.

"Trip to… where Stan? Complete sentences are helpful." The look on the mans face was... disturbing, to say the least. Not to mention the fact his normally tan skin had drained of all color, leaving him as pale as a Moroi.

"No… she wouldn't—she's not that impulsive… Oh God! I have to go. I…"

Adrian stared as the man bolted away, confused by his half stammered speech and dramatic exit. He felt a momentary tingle of unease, wondering if the man was running to Kirova to tattle about Rose and the Russian. If Alto did that, he'd be forced to disclose the source of the information to the headmistress, and if Stan thought that Adrian would collaborate his story, he was dead wrong. Pulling out his flask he splashed some on his coat and downed the rest. He was known for being a crazy drunk, and if need be, today he'd play the role to the hilt.


	59. The Truth Comes Out

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far it hadn't happened. No one summoned him to Kirova's office. Alberta Petrov didn't show up banging on his door to curse him for screwing up and opening his mouth. Stranger still, Stan Alto was walking around with a strange, haunted expression on his face.

Day rolled into night then back again, and still the incident went unmentioned. He ran into Alberta outside of the commons and immediately he noticed her bloodshot eyes. When she spoke to him, the slur to her words made him realize that more people were hurting over his little dhampires absence than just her group of friends. Judging by the bleary eyes and boozy breath of Saint Vlad's head guardian, some of the staff was suffering—badly.

After that, he made a point of paying attention to Petrov. As the days passed, he followed her around as she stumbled across the campus. She was so lost in her misery she didn't even notice him trailing behind her. In the morning she would appear slightly hung over, her hair mussed and her face somewhat haggard. So far, she appeared to be successfully staying sober while on duty.

He knew it was only a matter of time until that changed.

Her off hours drinking would eventually begin to claw its way into her working hours. It would intrude slowly, taking over her life in tiny increments—much as it had his own. He had to do something before she hit bottom. Before she spiraled out of control and lost everything she had worked so hard to achieve. He couldn't let her ruin her life. Once he reached the decision to intercede Adrian acted on it immediately, knowing that if he gave himself time to second guess himself he would probably chicken out.

He found her in her normally immaculate office—the floor was littered with manila file folders, her desk covered with a surprising amount of old photographs. All of them were of his Rosebud, chronicling different stages of her life. Alberta was slumped in her chair, a bottle of vodka in one hand, a small, faded photograph in the other.

"I took this the day she was dropped off."

Adrian jumped, startled by her husky voice. He hadn't realized she'd noticed his presence. Alberta's eyes flicked to his face and he noticed the tearstains on her cheeks. For the first time since he'd met her, she seemed frail and broken.

"Janine wanted to leave her here when she was just a few weeks old." She spit out the woman's name as if it were a dirty word. "Ellen refused. She claimed that it was in the child's best interest to stay with the mother for the first few years. Even then, Janine managed to leave her here for weeks at a time. She said Rosemarie needed to get 'acclimated' to the Academy." She took a drink, shaking her head. "She was just a fucking infant. I was the one who took care of her. I was just another guardian then. She was so tiny. So warm in my arms."

"Alberta. You have to stop this. You can't—"

"A week before Rose's fourth birthday, she was a ward of the academy. That bitch didn't even stick around to tell her happy birthday. Janine Hathaway may have given birth to her, but _I_ was her mother. _ME._ I taught her to tie her shoes. I taught her ABCs. I taught her…" She broke off, her words lost in a mournful sob. "I never told her how I felt about her. I forced myself to be professional and cold. But I loved that girl. She was my daughter. My precious little Rose."

He was around the desk in two steps, cradling the sobbing woman in his arms. "Shh, Allie. She knows. Deep inside she knows."

"She used to cry out in her sleep for her mama. She would wake up in tears, and I'd sing Kalinka to her until she fell back asleep. For a whole year she called out for that bitch, every single night. Then she stopped. Do you know why? Because she asked me if she could call me mommy." She shoved Adrian away, hurling the bottle against the far wall. "And I had to tell her no, because it wasn't fucking professional. Kirova had already come down on me for being too attached."

"Allie—"

"Every year she would watch the other students leaving with their parents for holidays or trips. She'd watch parents show up for birthdays or class events, and she was all alone, Adrian. She had no one." Shoving past him, she began pacing. "This is my fault. All my fault. If I had put a stop to it… If I had transferred him to another academy…"

"Stop it." His voice was harsh. "You think that would have kept her away from him? She would have run away—followed him. She loved him." He grabbed her arm, stilling her frenzied motion. "She promised she'd come back, Allie. She just needs time to come to terms with—"

"Are you a fucking idiot? Are you really that stupid Ivashkov? Where exactly is it you think she's gone—on some joyride? Or maybe she's spending a week or two at a spa?"

He winced at her sarcastic tone. That, in fact, was exactly what he'd thought. "She needed to clear her head. To get over him. She said—"

She cut him off abruptly. "It was you, wasn't it? I thought it was Vasilisa at first, until I saw how angry the princess was. You gave her the money to leave."

Adrian frowned. "We made a deal. I funded her trip and in return, she gives me a chance at dating her when she comes back."

"Damn you to hell, Adrian Ivashkov." She laughed, and it sounded bitter and acidic. "Rose won't be coming back."

"Of course she will. She promised—well it wasn't exactly a promise, but she gave her word, and that's almost the same thing. Rose always keeps her promises."

Jerking her arm free, she bent to gather the folders that were splayed across the worn carpet. "You're right. She does. I take it you're unaware of the other promise she made?"

"What promise?" He watched as she sank down into one of the uncomfortable looking chairs that sat in front of her desk.

"The day after Rose left, Stan Alto came to see me. He was distraught. He figured it out before anyone else. He reminded me of a report he'd filed back in November. He was concerned about the mentorship between Belikov and Rose."

Adrian winced at that, but Alberta didn't notice.

"When Victor Dashkov took the girls shopping, Alto was one of the guardians that accompanied them." She shuffled through the folders, finally pulling one out of the pile and opening it. "According to Stan, there was a noticeable… tension between Dimitri and Rose throughout the car ride. He was seated in the front of the van, but he kept an eye on them. He claimed every time they brushed against each other, they both would blush, acting like," she flipped through the papers, "a couple of teenagers with a crush. Apparently even Dashkov noticed it, commenting on the fact it reminded him of Sonya and Mikhail. Sonya Karp was teacher here who voluntarily turned Strigoi. Guardian Mikhail Tanner was her lover. He left active duty to hunt Sonya down to free her soul. Belikov and Rose both verbally agreed if it came to it, they'd both rather be dead than to live as a Strigoi."

Adrian winced. Surely she wasn't suggesting that Rose—

"Alto claimed that after they said that, they were in their own little world. In his words, 'it was as if they were having some sort of conversation without saying a thing. After a minute or two of staring at each other, they both nodded, then the moment was over." She shut the folder and dropped it on the floor. Arching an eyebrow, she looked up at him, a wry smile on her face. "Wanna take a guess about what they were agreeing to?"

"You think she's gone to kill Belikov." His voice was flat and emotionless. Rose had played him. She let him spill his heart out to her, and all along she'd been planning on using the money he'd given her to go off on some wild goose chase, searching for _him._ Sure, she'd promised him a chance, but as always, Belikov came first.

"No Adrian. I think she's gone on a suicide mission."

Her words snapped him out of his momentary pity party. "Rose would never do that. She's a survivor. She—"

"You didn't see her at the cave that night, Ivashkov." She cut him off, her tone as lifeless as his own had been. "Even after she saw the Strigoi draining him, she kept fighting to get back in that cave to Dimitri. Stan and Janine had to practically drag her away."

"I saw." It came out a whisper. "That's what the visions were about."

"And you didn't warn him? I guess you decided it was a good way to get rid of the competition. To let a filthy monster turn him into—" She stood up, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"NO! It wasn't like that Allie! I couldn't remember—I swear to God. After everyone had set out on the rescue, I had another vision, and it all came back to me. I tried to get ahold of you but they patched me through to someone else. She didn't believe me. Then I tried to get into his head and warn him—"

Her fist slamming into his face cut him off. "It was you! He was the best we had—he'd never falter like that. I thought it was Rose that had distracted him but it was you! Your fucking interference made him hesitate." She grabbed the front of his shirt, her furious face inches from his own. "You killed him just as much as the Strigoi did."

"Alberta, I was only trying to—"

"And now you've killed Rosemarie as well." She released him, sinking to her knees. "Oh God. Rose."

Rubbing his jaw, he tried to comfort her. "Rose is strong. She'll succeed Allie. She'll set him free. Have faith."

"No she won't. She loves him too much. She'll hesitate, and that's all he'll need. He was fast before, but now, Belikov will be unstoppable."

"Rose knows that. She won't stand there and let him kill her, she'll—"

She laughed again. This time it contained a hint of instability. "He's not going to kill her Adrian. He loved her. He's going to make her Strigoi so they can be together forever."

"Listen to what you're saying Allie. It's crazy! Everyone knows Strigoi don't feel emotions like we do. Hell, they don't even think like we do. They're like sharks—their sole desire is for blood, for the kill!"

"Are you sure about that? She got to her feet, grabbing up the file folders she'd left on the chair. "Sit down. I have something for you to listen to."

He sat, watching as she collapsed in the large chair behind her desk. She pulled a file out of the stack, removing a small brown envelope from inside. Reaching into her desk drawer, she produced a micro cassette player. A moment later her voice echoed through the room, sounding somewhat distorted due to the small built in speaker.

"Guardian Alberta Petrov, taking the statement of Novice Rosemarie Hathaway regarding the incidents pertaining to Victor and Natalie Dashkov. November 24, Dr. Izolda Olendzki stands as witness to this testimony." She fast forwarded the tape. When it resumed playing at normal speed, Rose was speaking. Her voice sounded tired and… frail.

"_Victor said Natalie understood sacrifice. I tried to reason with her, but… She said he was a great man. That he'd help her control it.'_" Her voice faltered. _"She… She_ _still loved him! How could she still love him? I thought Strigoi couldn't love. I don't understand—"_

Alberta stopped the tape. "She was talking about Natalie Dashkov."

"Who, if I'm not mistaken, had only been a Strigoi for what—an hour at most? Those feelings could have just been lingering remnants. They would have faded if she hadn't been staked."

She tapped the stack of folders. "What about Lucan and Moira Ozera? They'd been Strigoi for over a year when they went to collect Christian. They wanted their son with them. Natasha Ozera's testimony stated that Moira was crying for 'her baby boy'. Each one of these files contains something similar, Adrian. Forty-five accounts of Strigoi going after their loved ones. Not for the sake of killing them, but because they wanted them to turn. Most of the statements claim the Strigoi clearly stated they wanted their loved ones with them."

Running his hands through his hair he stood, leaning over the desk. "Rose wouldn't let him do that, Allie. Never in a million years. So what's the worst thing that could happen? If he still loves her, like you claim, he won't hurt her. He'll let her go. If she can't stake him, she'll come home to us."

Alberta shook her head, her eyes full of pity. "Put yourself in Rose's place Adrian. Keep in mind that for a dhampire, it would also mean freedom. She would be free of duty. Free of the side effects of Lissa's magic. Free to be with Belikov. If Rose appeared before you—as a Strigoi—and said she loved you and wanted to be with you forever, what would you do? Even if she had the strength to say no, do you really think Dimitri would let her walk away? He'll keep her by his side, trying to convince her. Eventually, she'll give in. She won't be able to deny him. I know it and you know it."

Sighing, he sank to his knees in front of her, resting his forehead on her lap. "You're right." He felt her hand smooth his hair, a comforting gesture that reminded him of his Aunt. "I have to stop her."

"It's too late Adrian. That's what I've been trying to come to terms with. There's nothing anyone can do for her now. There's no way to find her… to reach her."

An idea began to form in his head. It was crazy, but that was nothing new. "I can reach her, Allie. In her dreams. But I'll do you one better. I think I might be able to reach Belikov."

"Strigoi don't sleep, Adrian."

"So?"

"May I remind you that in order to dream, you have to be asleep?" She was beginning to sound more like her normal, sarcastic self.

"Really? What about daydreams?" He sat back, smirking up at her. "Uh… did I fail to mention I've been pulled into his head a time or two since he… changed?"

Her eyes widened. "Bullshit."

"Nope." He stood up, grabbing her hand. "Tomorrow I'll start trying to find them. Tonight, you and I are going to get well and truly drunk."

"Adrian—"

"I won't take no for an answer, Allie. Think of it this way. This is the least you can do for the guy who's gonna save your little girl." He gave her his million dollar smile, relieved when she returned it. "Come on. This is the last bender I'll be able to have for a while. Tonight we're having martinis—James Bond style—shaken, not stirred."


	60. Protection

As the drinking started, he tried to tell her about the prior conversations with Belikov, only to find he could only clearly remember one of them—the nightmare. He sensed there were more, lurking in the depths of his mind, but there was something… blocking the memories. The harder he tried to latch onto them, the fuzzier they got, fading away each time he attempted to focus on them. It was almost as if someone had attempted to erase them—or had used compulsion on him. But that was impossible. Only another spirit user could—

Son of a bitch.

He tossed the bottle he was holding against the wall, startling Alberta so bad that she jumped to her feet and spun in a circle, looking for an intruder. He could feel his face flushing with anger as his heart raced in his chest. He felt the darkness he'd been building up over the past few days rolling through his body, fueling his rage to frightening levels. The image of wrapping his hands around Vasilisa's pretty little neck filled his mind, making his hands tremble. God above, how did Rose handle feeling like this all the time?

"Adrian? What's going on?"

"Spirit. The darkness—just like Rose gets. Give me a minute to calm down."

Alberta shot across the room and grabbed the first bottle she saw, thrusting it into his hands as if it were a life preserver. "Drink it. Hurry."

He complied without hesitation, upending the bottle and swallowing its contents as fast as he could. As the warm burn of the bourbon hit his stomach he forced his mind to go blank, struggling to fight back the murderous thoughts that were pounding away at him. A few minutes later he could feel the hatred retreating, replaced instead with the wonderful numb feeling he'd come to know so well.

"Does that happen often?"

"First time it's hit the radar as anger. Normally I get… depressed. Rose must be rubbing off on me." The joke fell flat. "I was trying to remember the conversations with Belikov, and I hit a mental block. _Someone_ used compulsion on me to make me forget."

"Why would anyone want to—"

"I don't know, but we're damn sure going to find out. Come on." Grabbing her hand he towed her towards the Moroi dorm. "Spirit users are immune to compulsion, Alberta. Unless it's done by another spirit user. So I'm willing to bet my trust fund that the person who did it has long blonde hair and big green eyes."

"That's ridiculous. The princess would never—"

"Bullshit," he cut her off, feeling the anger stir. "She's the only other fucking spirit user on campus. She did it the day of the rescue. I remember staring into her eyes and then everything gets… blurry. She's going to tell me why. I'll beat it out of her if I have to."

"No you won't," she snapped, tugging him to a halt. "Calm down!"

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. "Fine. I'm going to confront her. She'll deny it. You threaten to investigate. She'll try to use compulsion on _you _to make you forget."

"Compulsion doesn't work on me."

"You know that and I know that, but Vasilisa doesn't." He smirked at her. "Once she realizes that, we get her to undo the whammy on me so I can remember what was said."

She studied his face carefully. "Are you in control now?"

"As in control as I can be when in the presence of a beautiful woman."

"Can the corny lines, Adrian," she said, rolling her eyes.

"And again, you wound me. Are we doing this?"

"Yes, but if Kirova finds out about it—"

"I'll take the blame. I'm crazy, remember? You were just trying to humor me, so I'd get the paranoia out of my system."

The look she shot him was part admiration mixed with an equal dose of astonishment. "You really are something, Ivashkov."

"Look who's throwing out corny lines now, Allie." Arching an eyebrow as he smiled seductively, he grabbed her hand, tugging her towards their destination.

The look of surprise on Lissa's face when she answered her door would have amused him, had the circumstances been different. As it was, the sight of her pretty face made the black fury swell within him. He'd trusted her. Tried to help her. And the little bitch had abused him in what he considered the most invasive way possible. She'd played with his memory.

"Adrian… Guardian Petrov… What's wrong?"

"Why would you ask that, Lissa?" He pushed past her, flopping down on the immaculately made spare bed. "Why not say something along the lines of 'hey guys, what are you doing here at this hour'?"

"May I come in, Princess?" Alberta asked. When Lissa nodded her acquiescence, the dhampire woman brushed past her, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed and her face betraying nothing—hidden away behind the mask that all guardians used to hide what they were thinking.

"Sorry," Lissa offered, "I just figured since it was after curfew, something was wrong. Is it about Rose?"

"I don't know—why don't you tell us," he asked.

"Excuse me?" Her confusion was written clearly across her face.

"The memories you fucked with," he said. "Did they involve Rose, or were they just about Belikov?"

Her eyes widened, her face expression just a hint of panic. "I don't understand…"

He sat up, glaring at her. "Oh, I think you do Cousin. Someone used compulsion on me to make me forget certain… conversations. And we both know that spirit users are immune to compulsion—unless another spirit user is the one wielding it."

Regaining his feet in one fluid, graceful movement, he stalked closer to where she stood by the door, ignoring the pointed look coming from Alberta. "Imagine Guardian Petrov's surprise when I tried to give her my official statement about Belikov, only to find the memory becoming… fuzzy—then disappearing almost entirely." He turned towards Alberta. "What happens when someone uses compulsion on another person, Guardian Petrov?"

"They would be arrested and sent to the Court for trial before the Council."

Lissa flinched. "I don't know what you're talking about, Adrian. Really."

"Don't make me involve my aunt, Vasilisa. We can settle this right here and now. Unless, that is, you decide to make things more… difficult."

Lissa crossed the room, approaching Alberta, stopping within a foot of the older woman. "Guardian Petrov, you don't really believe all this nonsense, do you?"

Adrian could feel the soft edge of spirit flowing through the room—he could almost see it dripping from the words she uttered in her sweet, persuasive voice. Smirking, crossed his arms. The little bitch had no idea who she was messing with.

"I would never use compulsion on another person—especially not one of my friends." Her green eyes were locked with Alberta's grey ones. "Adrian is imagining things. He's probably drunk."

"Are you attempting to use compulsion on _me_, Princess?" Alberta asked.

Lissa stumbled backwards just as Adrian shot over and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. "Guardian Petrov has an interesting… gift. She's immune to all forms of compulsion. Even when it's attempted by a spirit user. Did I not mention that before?"

"What do you want, Adrian?" Her voice was drained. "You did it to me too—Don't deny it!"

"I was trying to help you!" He snapped, glaring at her. How dare she even compare the two instances—the only similarities between them had been the use of spirit. He hadn't fucked with her memories, he'd only viewed them. "You were so distraught about Rose you weren't functioning!"

"Maybe I was trying to help you too, did you stop to consider that?" She stared out the window, not meeting his eyes.

Alberta made a small sound to get his attention—he glanced over at her, then proceeded to ignore the pointed 'we're going to talk about this' look she shot him. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed Lissa's hand, forcing her to look at him. "I want my memories back. Now. And I want you to realize that if something happens to Rose because of what you did, I'll have you up on charges faster than you can say 'Dragomir'."

"Rose… Why would something happen to Rose?"

"As if you didn't know. She's gone to hunt _him_. I have the strangest feeling that something he said involved my little dhampire, something that might have stopped her from taking off."

Lissa's face drained of the minute amount of blood it had contained, leaving her white as the proverbial corpse. He caught her as her knees buckled, guiding her over to her bed and gently lowering her to the mattress. "It's not too late to fix this, Lissa."

Burying her face in her hands, she choked back a tiny sob, and then began her confession.

* * *

With his memory restored, they returned to his room for their postponed celebratory drink. Of course Alberta insisted on discussing the whole 'use of compulsion on the princess' issue—strangely enough she took his side, agreeing that his use of the magic had not been malicious.

Being responsible adults, they called it quits after the fourth martini. To be honest, the only reason they'd stopped at four was because that was when Alberta realized that Belikov could be virtually anywhere in the world, in a completely different time zone. After pointing out that they had no idea where he might be, she'd done the most cruel thing imaginable, at least in his opinion. She had made him swear on Rose's life that he would totally abstain from drinking until they figured out what time he had access to Dimitri's mind.

So instead of reaching for a bottle—as he'd been prone to do upon waking almost every morning for as long as he could remember—he reached out for spirit, expanding himself as he searched for traces of the icy emotionless void that was now Belikov's mind. He failed on his initial attempt—and on each one thereafter—even though he tried off and on for the next several days.

Every time he was unsuccessful, Adrian felt a rush of fear, wondering if perhaps the prior conversations he'd had with the Strigoi had been manufactured by his own unstable mind. Frustrated, he began to lose all hope of saving his little dhampire—and that was when Alberta came up with a plan so simple that he was embarrassed. He should have thought of it himself—after all, he was the one who'd been trapped in freaky nightmares with the Russian.

They'd been sitting in her office when it happened, hashing out his latest failure over cups of stale, bitter coffee. Tired and discouraged, he was close to snapping—Alberta was acting as if she thought he wasn't really trying.

"You must be doing something wrong, Ivashkov." She frowned into her cup, glaring at the oily looking liquid. "Maybe it's all the cigarettes you've been smoking."

Sighing, he slouched down in the chair. "If the cigarettes were the problem I wouldn't be able to dream walk at all, Allie, and I can. I checked on Rose this morning and I got through just fine."

Slamming her cup down, she stared at him. "Is she okay? Did you ask her where she was?"

"Of course I did—I'm not a moron. She wouldn't tell me. Other than the fact she was pissed off at me for contacting her, I'd say she was doing alright."

"Did she say anything about Belikov?"

"No, and I didn't mention him." Adrian ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't want to make her madder than she already was. You know how difficult she can be."

"For fucks sake Adrian! You should have at least asked her if she was hunting for him—or told her about the dreams you had…" She stopped abruptly, her brow furrowed. "Adrian… When he contacted you… what were you doing?"

"Which time?"

"Any of them. All of them… There must be some common occurrence that triggers it." She pursed her lips.

"The first time I just fell into a… trance out and found myself watching Rose dream. He didn't speak to me, but I could… sense he was there." Adrian stared out the window, chilled by the memory of evil approaching in the dark. "The next time I was arguing with Vasilisa. He was suddenly in my head, demanding I deliver a message."

"To the princess?"

"Hell no. To Rose." He sighed, taking a sip of the disgusting liquid. "Then one morning I woke up and he was in my head again, threatening me—warning me that Rose was his."

Alberta stood up, walking to the window, leaning her forehead against the glass. "It certainly seems as though he hasn't lost his… protectiveness for her."

Making a sound of disgust, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You could say that again. The most recent one—" he felt his face flushing with embarrassment, struggling to force the words out. "I was dreaming about Rose. In a bikini. He didn't like it much."

Alberta turned to face him, her lips turned up in a tiny smirk. "And therein lies out answer. You need to stop concentrating on contacting _him _and start trying to dream about Rose."

Adrian's eyes widened as he contemplated her statement. Was it that easy" "He did say he wished he could dream about her. Maybe… maybe he's monitoring _my _dreams, watching so he can catch a glimpse of her."

Nodding, Alberta raised an eyebrow, a sly, wicked smile on her lips. "Do I need to point out that if you have a… shall we say, explicit dream, the chances he'll appear are almost guaranteed?"

"But how do I keep him from… The last time, he attacked me."

"I thought you controlled the dream?" She looked confused.

"Normally I do. With him though—it's different. I think because our minds are linked somehow."

"So include a silver stake in your dream. You don't have to know how to use it, just scratch him with it if he comes too close. His instincts should make him leery of the charmed silver."

Smiling, he set his almost full mug down on her desk. "Allie, you're brilliant. If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling rather… sleepy right about now."

"In these dreams... If something happens, does it affect the person's waking form?"

He nibbled at his lower lip, considering how to answer. "In all honesty, I don't know. I told you—these dreams are different than normal spirit dreams. I guess I could try and get him to punch me. If I show up with a black eye tomorrow, then we'll have our answer."

"You said he attacked you last time, did you have any marks when you woke up?"

"I didn't think to look, Allie. It never crossed my mind to check." He paused, trying to remember. "I was sore... like I had been in a fight."

She frowned. "In that case, be safe. Don't forget to dream up some protection."

"You already said that," He smirked at her, amused by her sudden onset of motherly worry. "I won't forget a stake. Okay?"

She blushed, studying the top of her desk. "That's not the kind of protection I meant, Adrian."

He stared at her, puzzled by her reaction. "Then what the hell are you—oh." Now it was his turn to blush. "I wasn't planning on getting quite _that_ explicit in the dream, Allie."

"Just in case. Humor me."

Embarrassed beyond belief, he was almost out the door when her soft voice froze him in his tracks.

"Adrian…" He turned, only to be rewarded with a saucy wink. "Sweet dreams. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

That was the final straw. He bolted out the door, her husky contralto laughter chasing him down the hallway.


	61. Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing

He'd been lying down for hours, imagining different scenarios and fantasies, each one more intense than the one before. He'd pictured Rose in formal dresses and jewels, then in lacy, barely there lingerie. Being a healthy, adult male, naturally he'd preferred to picture her standing naked before him in all her glory—that topped any other image his mind could conjured up. Unfortunately, he'd worked himself into a mass of sexual frustration—he was so aroused that before sleeping he would probably have to take matters in hand and indulge in a bit of self-gratification. That is, if he could just get over the strange guilt that was eating away at him.

The problem was, that for some unknown, obscure reason, he felt embarrassment mixed with the slightest hint of shame—and he couldn't figure out _why_. It wasn't as if he hadn't fantasized and dreamed about Rose a hundred times over—hell, it was a common occurrence. From the first night he'd met her, she'd had a starring role in his dreams—not just the ones he manipulated with spirit, but his natural dreams as well.

Sprawled on his king sized bed, clad only in a pair of forest green silk boxers that were almost painfully tight against the bulge of his erection, he stared at a picture of his little dhampir, trying to put his finger on exactly what was troubling him. The picture was one he'd snapped on the sly, and it had turned out beautifully. On one of his meaningless strolls around campus he'd heard her voice and came upon Rose and Belikov deep in conversation. They had been so intent on each other and the conversation they were engaged in that they never realized anyone was nearby.

In the photo, she was staring up at her mentor with an expression of complete and utter devotion on her beautiful face, on display for the world to see, in a manner that was completely out of character. Rose made a point of keeping her soft side hidden from everyone but Belikov—and that gentler Rose was the one in the photo. If she knew this picture existed, she'd probably break him in two and then stake him for good measure.

Lightly tracing his fingers across the glossy surface of the paper, he stumbled across the answer to his dilemma. He felt the way he did because deep down it seemed somehow _wrong_ to go into his dreams with the sole purpose of seducing an imitation Rose with the sole purpose of drawing out the Russian. If he did so, he would be using her to further his own goal. Even if it would benefit her in the long run—hell, even if it was just a damned dream—he cared to much about her to treat her that way.

Was it because he really loved her? Was that what made him feel sordid and despicable to think of Rose in a sexual way knowing she was in so much emotional pain? She was out there somewhere, alone and grieving the man she loved—and here he lay, imagining himself removing her panties using only his teeth. It was abhorrent, and made him feel like the despicable womanizer that everyone accused him of being—wanting Rose for a cheap, sexual thrill, only to throw her away when he got what he wanted, treating her like a blood whore. The thought had the effect of a cold shower, his arousal draining away as if it had never occurred in the first place.

So instead of imagining her in an exotic location, scantily clad as he rubbed oil on her beautiful body or sprawled across a bed atop red silken sheets, he decided to do something different. There was more to love than just sex, so that was what he'd focus on. Closing his eyes he drifted off to thoughts and images of romancing his Rosebud in an entirely new way. Some would probably think that what he pictured was a ridiculously worn out scenario, but to him, it just seemed like the perfect setting for an sweet, innocent romantic afternoon with the woman he desperately loved.

A thick, soft blanket spread out on the shore of the pond near Rose and Belikov's little love nest of a cabin. The blanket was littered with empty dishes, the remains of the picnic lunch they'd recently devoured. Rose lay on her back, staring up at the bright blue sky, her expression content and happy. Propped up on an elbow, he stared down at her, gently tracing her jawline with a single finger, just as he'd done with her photograph in the moments before sleep claimed him.

"Thank you for this. It was nice. A bit cheesy, but nice all the same."

"Anything for you little dhampir—I just want to make you happy." He moved his hand to her hair, smoothing it back from her face. "I miss you, Rose. So much."

She laughed. "How can you miss me Adrian? I'm right here beside you. We've been together all afternoon."

"I miss the _real _you." He sighed, knowing that as wonderful as this felt, it was a lie. "You're not the real Rose—you're just a figment of my imagination. The real Rose never would have thanked me, and she wouldn't let me touch her like this. My Rose is gone… and I don't know if I'll ever see her again."

"I'm real Adrian," she said, her speech the perfect copy of Rose's soft alto voice. She slid her hand up, her palm cupping his cheek for a moment. "I'm yours."

"_You_ might be, but Rose isn't. She's _his_. Even now, knowing what he is…"

"Stop talking." Her fingers moved to twine in his hair, gently pulling his face closer. "This is real. Kiss me."

His lips smashed down against hers, moving with purpose. For a moment he didn't care that it was a just dream. It felt real enough. He could smell the coconut scent of her hair and the warm, spicy aroma of the perfume he'd given her. He could feel the warmth of her lips as they danced against his own. Rolling his body on top of her, he groaned at the feeling as she slid one leg up over his hip, pressing herself against him. The sensation caused him to break the kiss long before he wanted to. Pulling back, he stared down at her, amazed by the passion in her dark, sultry eyes.

"See—I told you I was real," she purred, her lips turning up in a small, self-satisfied grin.

Reclaiming her lips, he lost himself in the moment, reveling in the way her body responded to his touch. His hands slid between them and he frantically fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, wanting—no _needing _to feel her skin against his. As her hands shot up to do the same, he realized something was happening. The dream suddenly felt… different, somehow. They were no longer alone in the idyllic spot—someone else had arrived.

"You don't listen, do you?" The voice was coming from somewhere nearby, but it wasn't the cold, emotionless voice he'd been expecting.

"It's not really her—it's just a dream," he said, pulling his face away from Rose, ignoring her small murmur of protest.

"I don't give a damn. I don't want you dreaming of her like this!" Adrian spotted him as he stepped out of the shadows to lean against a nearby tree. The expression on his face was… tortured. "You can control dreams so I know this is _your _doing."

Something about the way he looked, the way he sounded—his voice seemed… different. Not as cold. He almost looked and sounded like the old Dimitri Belikov, giving Adrian a faint spark of hope that he might be able to reason with the Russian. "This isn't Rose—the real Rose is gone."

"What do you mean _gone_? Did something happen to her after they… after they changed me?"

Adrian pushed away her insistent hands as they tried to pull him back down. There was a definite sense of panic in the Strigoi's voice. "She left the Academy. She's gone off looking for you."

"No! You have to stop her, Ivashkov. I left Montana so she would be safe—she can't… " Belikov grimaced, his shoulders bowing forward as if he were in pain. When he straightened, Adrian winced. The Russian's entire demeanor had changed. Whatever lingering traces of the man he had been were gone, replaced by the evil that now controlled him. The pained expression had been replaced by a look of pure contempt. "Such a sentimental fool, wasting time mourning lost love like a fucking love struck poet."

"Why are you here?" Adrian tried to keep the terror he felt out of his voice, but knew that it leaked through.

"She is my mate—my perfect match in every way. I was planning on returning to collect her, but thanks to you, now I know all I have to do is sit back and wait for her to find me."

"How is this even possible? You shouldn't be able to enter my dreams—you can't be asleep."

"You're right. I don't sleep. But you don't have to be asleep to dream, you fool. Besides, this isn't a dream, per say, at least not on my end." His voice grew more arrogant, as if he were actually enjoying their discourse. "Do you know the meaning of the word torpor, Ivashkov?"

Adrian searched his mind, coming up blank. "No, I don't."

"Not very smart, are you? Torpor is a state of motor and mental inactivity with a partial suspension of sensibility. An inactivity resulting from lethargy. A lack of vigor or energy, if you will. All animated beings—even the undead—need a way to… recharge their batteries, so to speak. Right now, I am in torpor, my body overly sated from a recent… feast. Unfortunately, when I am in such a state, _he _sometimes gains the upper hand."

"That makes no sense. You're one and the same." Adrian shot back.

"We are and yet we're not. When one is awakened, the soul leaves the body. The spirit remains behind, but it is broken at the separation from the soul, leaving it malleable to the… darker side of human nature. In the end it embraces the changes the darkness brings instead of fighting against them. _You_ have prevented that from happening because you are connected to our spirit. It causes us to have… feelings… emotions… that are not natural in this state."

Something in the Strigoi's voice sent off warning bells. He studied the creature, noticing the sudden tensing of muscles and the way it held its body stiff, as if poised to attack, perhaps angered that the goodness within Belikov's spirit still fought for control. At the same instant, Adrian realized something mortifying. This was a natural dream, created unintentionally, and there was no silver stake in sight. Fuck a damned duck.

Pulling on spirit, he attempted to strengthen himself, just in case the Strigoi came any closer. Unfortunately, there was one small factor he'd failed to consider. His mind was… not in the best shape. Not drinking had affected him far more than he realized, and the madness was far too close for comfort, weakening his control. Instead of refueling him, the spirit flowed outward, latching onto the dream and subtly shifting it. Their surroundings brightened, and a few seconds later, he was painfully shoved backwards, caught unaware.

"What the _fuck _are you doing, Adrian? I told you to stay out of my dreams!"

He stared in horror at a very irate, very real Rose Hathaway. Somehow he had inadvertently summoned a spirit dream, pulling her in and creating what could only be described as one majorly fucked up situation.

"Oh God Rose—I'm sorry! It was an accident, I swear!"

"Get the hell off of me Ivashkov," she growled.

Slowly crawling backwards, he tried to keep his body in between Rose and the figure leaning up against the tree. The last thing she needed to see was the man she loved in his new, predatory guise. If he luck was with him, he could block her view long enough to banish her from his dream, sending her back into her own, this might end without Rose suffering any further emotional trauma.

Of course, he wasn't that lucky. God forbid things be easy for a change.

"Very good, Ivashkov. I would much rather see my Roza—the real thing is so much more enjoyable than the simpering imitation you conjured up before. It's no wonder I still hang on to the memory of her— she is… amazing."

Rose froze, her eyes widening at the sound of his accented voice, her face expressing complete shock. "Di… Dimitri?"

"Rose!" Adrian reached over, trying to grab her chin. "Look at me!"

"Let me go! Let me see him, damn you! Dimitri!" She struggled in his arms, thankfully making the mistake of locking eyes with him in her attempt to break free.

"No!" Pulling on spirit, he shoved compulsion into her, layering it through her mind as he spoke in a soft, crooning voice. "You're not going to remember this, Rose. You had a bad dream—that's all. Now wake up!"

Instantly the brightness dimmed, and the eyes he was staring into faded, no longer nearly as beautiful as they had been just a moment before. The essential spark—the fire—that burned within the real Rose was gone. How could he have fooled himself into thinking that this dream girl was the same as the real thing?

"You kept her safe this time, Ivashkov, but I'll be the victor in the end. She'll be with me soon enough. Now that I know she's coming, I'll have to prepare something… special for her. Something fitting for such a fierce, beautiful creature."

Adrian spun, glaring at the tall man. "If what you say is true—that you have feelings and emotions because you remember what you once were, there's no way you'd hurt her. You love her, just as much as I do."

"Indeed. That is why she'll join me. We'll be together forever. We'll conquer the Moroi world and rule hand in hand. It will be the beginning of a new age—one in which the Strigoi will dominate the night." Belikov cocked his head, arching a dark eyebrow and smiling. "Goodbye Adrian. I'll see you soon. Sooner than you might imagine. Tell everyone I said hello, won't you? Especially the last Dragomir. She's taken advantage of my woman for far, far too long. I intend to free Roza from her clutches once and for all."

Before Adrian could reply, the dream faded. He found himself sitting upright in bed, gasping for air, his skin slick with sweat. Cursing, he collapsed back against the mattress, longing for a drink. He'd screwed up again, not finding out nearly enough to determine where Rose might be headed. In fact, all he'd actually done was alert the monster that she was on her way. It had been a fuck up of colossal proportions, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.


	62. A New Drug

_**A/N: I left the following information as a review so I didn't have to make a separate authors note, but I am re-posting here for those readers that don't look at the reviews. **_

_**I have not updated this story in a timely manner because I am ill—what I thought was a cold/bronchitis is in fact walking pneumonia. It is hard for me to be up and about—and even harder to concentrate on writing a chapter that I deem good enough to post. I am heavily medicated and groggy.**_

_**The reason One Poor Captive was updated is because the chapters were already hand written—I had my sister type them up for me and enter them into .**_

_**I will resume updating at my normal rate as soon as I am physically well enough to compose a worthwhile addition—probably within the next few days.**_

_**I apologize for the delay, and I appreciate each and every person reading this story. To those of you who take the time to review, a extra special thanks.**_

_**As an author, each review is incentive to continue, and they mean the world to me.**_

* * *

Adrian lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to still his racing pulse. It made no sense—not one single bit of it. It had to be an act or a game of some sort. Belikov was playing him, trying to lure him into believing that somewhere deep inside the monster, a part of the man still hung on—albeit tenuously—to what he once was. It was the only explanation he could come up with, because everyone knew that once someone went Strigoi they were evil through and through.

Glancing over at the bright blue numbers on the digital display of his alarm clock, he sighed, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as he sat up. He still had time to catch a few more hours sleep before he was due to meet up with Alberta, but—in all honesty—there was no way he could relax until he had some answers. After a long stretch which did nothing to loosen the knots in his back he grabbed the bottle of vodka off his nightstand, shuffling into the bathroom for a quick shower. As he waited for the water to heat, he took a long pull from the bottle, closing his eyes as the liquid fire burnt a path to his stomach.

A momentary twinge of guilt ate at him when he remembered his promise to stop drinking, but he reasoned it away almost unconsciously. One drink wouldn't hurt, and it wasn't as if he planned on going back to sleep anytime soon, so his dream walking wouldn't be affected. Besides, Alberta had no way of knowing about his momentary lapse—he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her.

Stepping into the shower, he relaxed as the almost scalding water beat down on his tense shoulders. Ever since Alberta's disclosure, he'd felt as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. If he had refused to loan Rose the money, she'd be here at the Academy, safe and sound. Knowing that Rose's fate rested on whether or not he could locate her before she found Belikov made it impossible for him to decompress in his usual fashion.

As he performed his daily ritual, sliding a bar of his favorite sandalwood scented soap over the lean muscles of his upper body, he replayed the dream in his head on a loop. The way Belikov had grimaced—the bowing forward of his body, as if it were being crushed… that couldn't have been fake. The man had been in pain, and to Adrian, it looked as if he had been seriously struggling—perhaps trying to fight off the Strigoi part of himself for a few minutes more.

Leaning against the wall and letting the water rinse the suds from his skin, he found that he was second-guessing his initial assessment. If that were the case, then Rose might actually have a shot at making it back home in one piece. Still, that was a mighty big if—and when push came to shove, he wasn't prepared to take a chance with Rose's life on the line. Because if he were wrong… well, better not to think about that, at least not until he had a few more drinks under his belt. The mere thought of Rose dying stirred the madness causing it to raise its head as it sent out sticky tentacles—desperately trying to gain a foothold in his mind. His sense of self slowly began slipping away, leaving him unsure of his surroundings. He stared at the bar of soap in his hand, puzzled as to what it could be.

Throwing back the shower curtain, he reached out to grab the bottle of vodka he'd left sitting on the back of the toilet. By the time he'd downed a third of the bottle the horrible sensation of disorientation—of not being… real—had slowly trickled away, like the sudsy water that was gurgling down the showers drain. He clutched the bottle to his chest, sinking to his knees, giving in to the fear that had eaten away at him for most of his life. Silent tears became long, drawn out sobs as he contemplated the choices that lay before him. He couldn't stay sober—not while Rose was in danger. If he did, he'd lose his sanity.

As the water slowly turned icy, Adrian Ivashkov wept, for himself and for his little dhampir. Either way you sliced it, it was a no win situation. She would die if he didn't help her, but if he did he would increase the instability within himself. No matter what choice he made, he'd still lose her in the end.

* * *

When he finally composed himself, he set out to find Alberta. He'd come up with a plan, of sorts, but it all hinged on whether or not the woman would agree to help him. Two or three drinks a day might be enough to keep the craziness at bay while still allowing him to access enough spirit to access Rose's dreams. Much as he dreaded the thought, _someone _would have to monitor his drinking—and that was where Alberta's assistance would come into play. If anyone could keep him from spiraling out of control and going on a binge, it would be her.

Of course, she would be angry he was drinking at all—they had, after all, agreed that he would stop altogether. To counter her anger, he'd have to confess to the one thing he'd successfully kept hidden from everyone. Sure, he'd discussed it openly, but always under a thin veil of sarcasm. Even when discussing his episodes with to Rose and the others, he'd tried to play it off as a joke, never letting on how terrified he was. They knew he concerned about spirits long range effects on his sanity, but no one knew the real depth of the dread he felt.

Since the first time he'd felt spirits madness, he'd known that one day it would rule over him. He'd no longer be Adrian Ivashkov—instead, in his place would be a mindless no one. There would be no hint of the man he'd once been. He would be an empty shell; a pale shadow—nothing more than a drooling moron who couldn't even tie his own fucking shoes. Spirit would slowly fry his brain, and like an overloaded circuit board, it would cease to properly function. He'd spend the rest of his life lost in a fog, with others feeding him and diapering him. People would probably remember his sadly, spouting off about his potential—talking about what a great artist he'd been, or maybe about how vibrant and handsome he'd been in his youth.

Furthermore, he worried about who would take care of him. Not his family—the mere thought of Danielle or Nathan playing nurse made him chuckle out loud. There was no way in hell they would even consider the possibility. In the end, he supposed Tatiana would hire someone, or else they would simply lock him away and forget he even existed. He'd be a dark family secret, the skeleton in the Ivashkov's proverbial closet.

Shivering slightly at the thought, he realized he'd crossed the campus in a daze. He was standing outside the building that housed Alberta's office, staring at the door with trepidation. Steeling himself for what he had to do, he shoved open the door, slowly making his way down the deserted hallway. To his immense dismay, the door to her office locked and the lights off. Glancing at his watch he muttered a quite curse. She was probably still asleep, like any sane person would be in the wee hours of the morning. Now that he'd made up his mind to spill his guts to the woman, he wanted it over and done with—before he had second thoughts and chickened out altogether.

Leaning against the wall he slowly sank down to the floor, prepared to wait for however long it took. He had no desire to return to his room where the temptation of his hidden stash would call to him like a siren, promising peaceful oblivion with each mouthful he swallowed. After twenty minutes of mind numbing boredom and silence, his breathing slowed and his head slowly slid forward, his chin resting against his chest. His last conscious thought was that he didn't want to sleep—but by then, it was too late to do anything about it.

* * *

He was walking down a deserted street, his pace so rapid that it almost seemed like he should be running. It was cold—a bone jarring, nose numbing cold, the likes of which he had never experienced in his life. The black night enveloped him; the streetlights in this area appeared to be few and far between.

For a moment, Adrian was confused. This had the clarity of a spirit dream, but he didn't feel the thrum of spirit coursing through his body. It felt… cold and alien, almost as if he were…

Hells bells.

He was in Belikov's head, witnessing the world through Strigoi eyes. And much as he hated to admit it, everything looked abso-fucking-lutely amazing. Clearer, as if it were super focused. He could see and differentiate each tiny granule of snow. Moreover, although the night was dark, he realized that it in no way hampered his vision. It was almost like wearing high-powered night vision goggles, only everything was in full color and not in the weird muted shades of green that always accompanied the use of night vision.

The Strigoi paused, and Adrian's senses were suddenly overwhelmed with the most tantalizing scent. It was better than anything he'd ever smelled. It was indescribable—better even than the faint musky smell of Rose's natural female scent after she'd had an intense training session. It was… delicious, making his moth water and his senses heighten to an even greater level than they had been mere seconds before.

His hearing had sharpened as well, a faint fluttering sound instantly becoming his sole focus. What was that? Footsteps? A bass beat from some hidden underground club? While Adrian puzzled over the sound, the Strigoi took off, and once he was in motion again he almost flew down the street. Each enormous stride brought the strange pulsating rhythm closer and closer. One block, then two—the sound becoming louder until it was almost deafening.

As soon as he saw the woman standing on the sidewalk, Adrian put two and two together. They had been stalking her, tracking her by her scent and her heartbeat, like a lion might stalk a gazelle. Oh fuck, he had to get out of here. He couldn't witness this—couldn't take part in the slaughter of this unsuspecting stranger.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?" Belikov's voice was husky, and Adrian realized a heartbeat later that it was Russian rolling off his tongue in a seductive purr.

The woman glanced at her watch, then smiled up at him, fluttering her overly mascaraed eyelashes. "It is a little past two thirty. Still early."

"Yes, it is. Early enough that you could be considered as breakfast." With that, Belikov lunged forward, latching onto her throat before she even realized he had moved.

Adrian fought, struggling to break free from the sensations that washed over him. So good. The blood… the life… He'd never tasted anything so wonderful. As the woman stopped struggling, Adrian felt himself slowly drifting… the scene becoming cloudy, even as the taste and smell of the woman took center stage in his mind.

"Adrian?"

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder pulled his eyes open. Alberta stared down at him, her face full of concern. Oh God, he could still taste it… Still taste her. Rubbing his fingers over his mouth, he leaned over and threw up. Once then again, clenching his hand to his stomach as his body began to shake. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to erase the images and feelings. He had to. Because if he didn't—if he couldn't forget, it would do more than haunt him.

It would tempt him.

Every time he went to the feeders, he would remember the feeling. The surge of energy as he drank the life away from that unwilling victim. The rush, better than any alcohol or drug he'd ever tried. Addictive. As much as it disgusted him, as wrong as he knew it was, already he was longing for another hit. It was a drug in itself, filling him with power beyond his wildest dreams.

It would be so easy to indulge it. And in doing so, he could erase his greatest fear. If he turned… became Strigoi, he would lose access to the magic that was slowly eroding his mind. He would be able to remain Adrian, but he would be a better, stronger version of himself. All he had to do was give in and embrace the change.

It was at that moment that he realized how dangerous addictions could be—and how fucking hard it would be for him to fight off the tantalizing lure of a new one.


	63. Accusations

_**A/N: I apologize for the delay in getting this next chapter up. As you know from my last update, I've been sick, and to make matters even worse, Adrian has been misbehaving, in his typical arrogant fashion—he's been in a drunken frenzy in my head, trying to commandeer the story and take it in a completely different direction. Since AB is based on the actual series, just from his Point of View, I cannot make the changes he wants. If it were up to him, right now he'd be flying off to Russia to rescue Rose. That does not follow the books, so it's not going to happen.**_

_**The same thing happened when I had to write the cave scene. I was totally blocked, because I wanted to make changes that were impossible. As a result, I ended up writing the two shot 'Beyond One's Control' to get the idea out of my head. That's probably what I'll have to do again, so you might get a new one shot due to my block within the next week or so. I've got it down on paper, but it needs some tweaking.**_

_**I know that explanation sounds completely crazy, and I apologize for that. I think the way characters take on a life of their own is something only another writer can fully comprehend. **_

_**On the plus side, I'm already half way through with the next chapter for this story. It was inspired by the-adrian-ivashkov on tumblr, who spent a good portion of last night and today acting out Adrian's spirit induced madness on my dashboard. The portrayal was so excellent that it started the gears spinning in my head—it's about time for a little more spirit induced madness to rock Adrian's world. What better time for him to lose his sense of self than when he's struggling to find a way to help his little dhampir? So this chapter is dedicated to the-adrian-ivashkov for inspiring me with the inner workings of poor Adrian's mumble jumbled mind.**_

_**In addition, I have received numerous Private messages (17 of them total) both on Fan Fiction and on Tumbler asking (actually, that is far too polite a term. I should say demanding) that I write select portions of Aurora Borealis as one shots from Dimitri's Point of View. Well those of you that have asked will be getting your wish, because you've started my mind rolling all the different possibilities around in my head, and I won't be able to concentrate on my novel until I get the ideas on paper. **_

_**The story will be called 'AB One Shots' and I will have the first two chapters up later today. They were an anonymous request that was made to my Rose Hathaway RP account, and will cover chapters 61 & 62 (Adrian's dream and the hunt Adrian witnessed). Again, they will be in Dimitri's Point of View. (I'm actually having quite a bit of fun writing as Strigoi Dimitri—he's just so… wicked and animalistic. *shivers*.**_

_**Sorry for the uber long A/N—it won't happen again!**_

_**Thanks to everyone who reads my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you. Your kind words and reviews mean the world to me—so much so that I put my 'real' writing to the side far too often just to work on fan fiction updates for you.**_

_**samwysesr**_

* * *

Adrian wrapped his hands around the coffee mug Alberta handed him, thankful for its warmth. He was freezing—feeling as if he were still trapped inside Belikov's cold form. The scene he'd witnessed—lived—kept playing through his mind on a loop, over and over, tormenting him.

"Are you even listening to me? Or you so damned drunk you can't focus?"

Alberta's words pulled him out of his head and back into the room, giving him a moments reprieve from watching the poor woman in his mind die again. "I told you I'm not fucking drunk!"

It was the third time he'd vehemently repeated the statement in the last ten minutes. He'd tried—and failed—to explain what had happened, but Alberta kept cutting him off every time he opened his mouth.

"You threw up on my shoes, Ivashkov." She paused her nonstop pacing to glare at him for a moment. "And you're never up this early unless you've pulled an all-night drinking binge."

Staring up at the ceiling, he slowly counted to one hundred as he tuned out her rant. He knew how suspicious it looked, but for God's sake, he didn't even have the slightest buzz. Unaware that her words were falling on deaf ears, Alberta continued to rail at him, making him wonder if Rose had ever been on the receiving end of one of Alberta's lectures. If she had, with her temper, it was a wonder she'd had enough control not to knock the older woman out.

As if the mere thought of Rose channeled her ever-growing darkness, he snapped. "Do you want to know what fucking happened, or are you just going to keep bitching at me all damn day?"

Alberta's head swiveled, her eyes narrowed. "I know what happened, you broke your word."

"I got sucked into Belikov's head while he stalked and killed a woman!" His voice sounded shrill, making him wince. Ever since waking, his head had been pulsing with a painful headache. "I felt it, every bit of it. I smelled her. Tasted her blood. Took pleasure in her life draining away while I held her limp body in my arms."

Alberta's eyes widened in shock. "How is that even possible?"

"Fuck if I know. When you woke me up, I could still—" A wave of nausea hit him, forcing him to close his eyes as he fought against emptying his stomach again. "I tasted her blood in my mouth. That's why I puked."

She collapsed into her chair, eyes locked on his face as she studied him. He stared right back, unfazed. He was telling the truth, and he'd be damned if he'd look away first. After a moment, she lost their silent battle, her gaze dropping to her clasped hands.

"I'm sorry—I just assumed—"

His sharp bark of dry laughter cut her off. "Forget about it Allie. I'm used to people assuming the worst about me. We've got more important things to talk about."

For the first time in days, he saw a flicker of hope cross her tired face. "What did you find out?"

"He's left the area—he claims it was so Rose would be safe. He's in Russia. I think. Somewhere where they speak Russian, at least, and all the signs were in Cyrillic. So either Russia or the Ukraine."

"That makes no sense—a Strigoi would only care about killing her or turning her. He should be somewhere nearby, hunting her."

Adrian winced at the thought, his mind instantly threatening to pull him back into the looping scene again. "He's… weird, Allie. It's almost like he has two personalities. At first I felt like I was talking to Belikov—the guardian… the man. Then…" Adrian shivered. "He changed. The Strigoi took control and any… goodness—for lack of a better word—in him just vanished."

"That's impossible." Her tone was matter of fact, leaving no room for discussion.

"Is it? He said that because I'd used so much spirit on him, I caused… complications."

"How often did you use it? And what kind of complications could there possibly be? He's a fucking Strigoi, for Christ's sake!"

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his tousled hair. "A lot. I already told you, I was testing some stuff Lissa and I discovered. I focused on him, because…" He stared down at the floor, feeling ashamed. He should have accepted that Rose loved the Russian and left it at that. But no, in typical, arrogant Ivashkov fashion, he'd fucked with the man's mind, infusing him with so much spirit that now Belikov was somehow trapped inside himself in some kind of limbo. "Because of Rose. I was jealous, and acted like an ass, and now he's suffering because of it. The good part of his spirit is still there, locked inside, experiencing every depraved act that the Strigoi does."

His voice hitched slightly, and Alberta caught it, her face softening. "It's not your fault."

"It most certainly fucking is. I experimented on him. I blocked out my dreams, not trying to remember what I'd seen. I wanted Rose and wasn't going to take no for an answer."

"There's no real proof that this is true. He could be playing with you. Did you try to reach Rose again?"

He smirked at her sudden change of subject, letting her know it hadn't been nearly subtle enough to escape notice. "Yeah… about that… I kind of fucked that up too."

Alberta rolled her eyes. "So you forgot to try."

"No I didn't!" His voice came out sharper than he'd intended. His own darkness was building up, due to his abstention from his habits. The tiny amount of alcohol he'd consumed hadn't been nearly enough to keep it away. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette, shrugging off the dirty look that Alberta shot him. "Look, spirit is getting to me. I need it."

She sighed. "You were saying?"

"If you remember, I was trying to contact Belikov last night, not Rose. When I—"

"And you did." She cut him off, earning a glare in return. "You already told me you witnessed his… feeding. So how exactly did you _'fuck up' _?"

"If you'd quit interrupting me, you might find out." He stared at her until she nodded an acknowledgement to his accusation, then continued. "I imagined myself on a picnic with Rose—not the real Rose, but one I created. She looked like Rose, but acted in the way I wanted her to. I—"

Alberta fidgeted and opened her mouth, as if she wanted to ask something. He sighed, frustrated. "For fucks sake, what?"

Her eyes were narrowed, her expression angry. "Do you do that often? Create a dream Rose that does whatever you want?"

He stared at her for a moment, not comprehending her meaning. As he processed her words and the venom in her voice, his face twisted in disgust. "You know what? I'm done."

Standing, he moved to the door, only to be stopped when she latched onto his arm. "Adrian, I'm sorry. I thought you might… I'm sorry."

"Sorry you thought I was so desperate that I'd make myself a Rose sex toy? I have more respect for her than that. Any dreams I have that are like that are one hundred percent real. I don't purposefully try to—"

"I'm sorry. Please, I won't interrupt again. Sit back down." She took the seat beside him this time, not retreating behind her desk.

He glared at her a moment before sitting. He still wanted to tell her to go to hell, but Rose was more important than his wounded pride. "As I was saying, I created a scene so lifelike that Belikov appeared almost immediately. Only problem was, I forgot to envision a stake. After my freaky discussion with both sides of his personality, he looked like he was about to attack me. I pulled on spirit, and it changed the dream. It made it into a spirit dream, and dragged the real Rose right into the middle of it." When he paused, she shot him a look so he indicated she could speak, his hand shaking as he inhaled deeply on his cigarette before flicking his ashes into the coffee.

"So she saw him. How did she react? Did she attempt to protect you?" Her voice was low, betraying none of the emotions that raced across her face.

"She didn't see him. I blocked him from her line of sight with my body. But she heard his voice and lost it. You were right, Allie, she can't kill him. She fought me, just to get a fucking _glimpse_ at him—protecting me was the last thing on her mind. And Belikov… Well he seemed more determined than ever to reclaim her. He even threatened Lissa."

"What does the princess have to do with any of this?"

"He said Lissa had taken advantage of his woman for far too long, and he was going to free Rose from her clutches once and for all." Adrian dropped the cigarette—now so short he could feel its heat on his fingers—into the mug. "Whatever we're going to do, it has to be done fast. If Rose finds Belikov before we can track her down, she's a goner."

Alberta dropped her head into her hands, effectively hiding her face. Adrian was willing to bet half his inheritance that for once, she realized she couldn't keep her stoic guardian facade in place. He understood her feelings—the thought of Rose as a Strigoi haunted him. He could all to easily imagine Rose as a pale, deadly beauty, stalking the night at Belikov's side, hunting down victims. It would be a match made in hell, both of them ferocious, without the slightest hint of mercy. Furthermore, he was willing to bet that if Belikov actually achieved his goal and transformed Rose, it would kill whatever goodness remained in the man, shearing whatever ties spirit had made with the man he'd been before.

"So what now?" Alberta asked, her voice once again sounding hopeless. "We have nothing to go on other than the fact he's somewhere in Russia. It's not like I can send a team after Rose—she's eighteen now."

"Well I'm going to hear to court later today—to search the library for information. Maybe there's something in the archives about whatever it is that spirit has done to Belikov. Maybe…" He trailed off, a seed of hope slowly sprouting in his mind. "Maybe there's something I can do—somehow I can use the link to keep him away from our Rosebud." Shrugging, he leaned over, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's a start, at least. Better than sitting around here fretting."

Alberta nodded and a few minutes later he excused himself. One battle down, one to go—now the had the appealing task of facing off with the schools headmistress. He had a feeling she wasn't going to be pleased when she found out he was commandeering a plane.

* * *

He left for court an hour later, his status as the Queens favorite family member overriding Kirova's displeasure. Napping for most of the four and a half hour flight, he was off the plane as soon as the all clear was given, anxious to him the library. Of course, his luck being what it was, his hopes of slipping in and out of court without all the usual hoopla that his arrival brought was brought to a screeching halt as soon as his feet touched the tarmac. The headmistress had taken her complaints straight to the top and in doing so had alerted his aunt of his visit. A contingent of Royal Guards stood on the airstrip, sent ahead to collect him.

Ignoring them, he attempted to circumvent the waiting limo, determined to reach the large garage that housed the surplus of vehicles kept on hand for the convenience of visiting Royals. He was stopped almost immediately as a large, calloused hand closing around his elbow.

"Lord Ivashkov," the dhampir bowed, "her Majesty is waiting to greet you."

"I'm sure she'd want me to settle into guest housing and freshen up before you whisk me off to see her."

"Her Majesty was very specific in her orders, sir. We are to take you directly to your families residence—she is waiting there to speak with you."

"Oh for Christ's sake, fine."

Muttering under his breath about being treated like an infant, Adrian let the guardian lead him to the limo and within minutes, they were pulling up in front of his parents town house. Not waiting for the driver or one of the guardians to get the door, he shot out of the vehicle, and was through the door in a flash, shutting it quietly behind him. He made an immediate beeline for the stairs, taking them two at a time, anxious to disappear into the depths of the large residence. He was two stairs from being home free when his mother appeared at the foot of the staircase, decimating yet another perfectly good escape.

"I thought I heard someone out here. Your aunt and I have been waiting for you."

Running his hands through his hair and tugging at the collar of his shirt, he descended the staircase as slowly as possible, feeling like a man on death row headed towards the gas chamber. His sense of dread grew with each step he took, until it engulfed any happiness he might have felt at seeing his mother again. Pressing a dutiful kiss against her upturned cheek he sighed, turning to face the sitting room and the woman that waited within.

"Thought you could sneak past us?" Tatiana's voice was light, but he could sense the hidden reproach in her words.

"Actually I was planning on freshening up—the toilets on places just aren't up to my standards."

"Adrian!" His mother's eyes widened in horror as she shot him an angry look.

Tatiana's husky laughter took the heat from his mother's eyes. "Is that your less than polite way of telling me I'm not as important as your bodily functions?"

"Hardly—you know how I am, Aunt Tatiana, always trying to shock and appal everyone around me."

"Too true." She nodded, her grey eyes narrowing. "Tell me, why didn't your little… friend come along with you?"

Her tone told him she knew the answer, but still he tried to bluff. "She had something to attend to. She sends her regards."

"Really? I was under the impression she'd dropped out. I seem to recall hearing she'd gone off to hunt for her mentor—the one that disappeared in the attack. What was his name again?"

"Belikov. Dimitri Belikov." He had trouble keeping the anger out of his voice.

Realizing she'd hit a nerve, Tatiana's smile widened. Like a shark that scented blood in the water, she was circling, ready to deliver a deadly bite. "Such devotion! It's admirable that she feels such… dedication to an instructor. I can't imagine many students risking their lives in such a manner. One might think there was something more to their relationship, don't you think?"

Groaning, Adrian headed across the room where the wet bar called to him like a distress beacon on a cold, dark night. The only way he could possibly get through his aunt's interrogation without betraying his little dhampir was to get plastered as quickly as possible. Thank God his parents had restocked the liquor cabinet after his last visit.


End file.
